


Happy Together

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, and i'll keep you updated, and kinda creepy, and weird, but i promise you, okay so i know it's kinda plain at first, shit will get wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-01-11 17:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 45,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18428897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: Series Synopsis: The reader is stood up while awaiting a blind date, instead finding herself keeping company with the restaurant’s famous owner; Steve Rogers. After that night, she tries to forget her humiliation but she just can’t shake one thing about that night: him.The reader goes on a blind date.





	1. A table for one

**Author's Note:**

> The first few chapters are going to move slow but I promise, there is a pit to this juicy apple. To clarify the setting, Steve Rogers resigned after the Sekovia incident and Accords were put in place and has since found a new, quite prosperous life as a restaurant owner. Random, I know, but I still wanted to keep this tied to the MCU in some way. Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the comments. <3

Your anxiety flared as you climbed out of the cab, your toe almost catching on the curb as you called to the driver to keep the change. You stepped up on the sidewalk and stared up at the high street moniker of one the city’s hottest restaurants. Bold letters marked its transparent facade; Spice. It wasn’t your first choice; you’d have chose a place more affordable and slightly less intimidating. You weren’t much for formality. Sure, you dressed nicely, making certain that you were pressed and primped, but you were no socialite. You were sure the menu would have you dreading your credit card statement.

You sighed as you resigned yourself and approached the tall glass doors. The early stirs of the evening breeze ruffled your knee-length skirt beneath your pea coat. You gripped the thin leather strap of your purse, the beige leather clutch neutral enough to match the magenta wrap dress Tandi had lent you. Your own wardrobe had long been purged of garments befitting a date. You had sworn off men after your last relationship; almost two years ago and were content to live by your own rules. Your nude heels clicked on the pavement as you pulled the thin metal handle of the door and slipped inside.

You had tried to excuse yourself from the night but Tandi had been insistent. You still weren’t ready for a date, especially a blind date. Even if it led to nothing, you didn’t want your hope to be built up only to find yourself as deflated and depressed as your last boyfriend had left you.  _‘Come on. It’s been two years.’ ‘Mike was an asshole.’ ‘You’re too young to be a spinster.’_ Tandi’s arguments had thoroughly shamed you into agreeing to the date and you had to admit, your apartment was growing rather lonely these days. Besides, she said Danny was a nice guy. And cute. You had seen his picture and you wouldn’t turn him away without a closer look.

You approached the podium-like desk where the hostess stood. Her sleek blond ponytail made your low chignon seem frumpy. You smiled and greeted her with as strong a voice as you can muster. “Um, reservation for two. Under Y/N.” You watched her scan the tablet for your name and her blue eyes flicked back up to you.

“You’re the first one here,” She announced, “May I take your coat?” She asked and you chewed your lip nervously. You were always painfully early.

“Yes,” You awkwardly removed your coat and dropped your purse in the process. “Please,” You handed her the jacket before retrieving your bag. “Sorry.” She took your coat, retreating to the front closet to hang it with those of other guests and returned to you. She guided you into the dining room, passing the bar lit by pale LEDs and you glanced around nervously at the other diners. They certainly outclassed you. 

“This is you.” She waved to a table for two, “Can I get you a drink to start?”

“Just water please,” You answered as you sat. She nodded and turned away, diligently going to get your order. You touched your neck as you looked around, the buzz of voices slightly comforting. The hostess returned, bringing a menu with your wine glass of water and informed you that a server would be with you shortly. You checked the time on your phone. He would likely be there in a few minutes, you told yourself.

The server arrived thereafter and you informed him you were waiting for someone, assuring him you were fine with just your water for now. You bent your ankle, twirling your foot anxiously under the table as the clock ticked by. Ten minutes. Maybe it was traffic. It  _was_  Friday night after all. Another ten passed and you spread your fingers over the tablecloth, suppressing a sigh. You took out your phone and saw a message from Tandi.

‘Hey, how’s it going?’ the text read and you swiftly thumbed a response, ‘He’s twenty minutes late.’ Your phone vibrated in your hand as she sent a second message, ‘He’ll be there. Don’t worry.’

You tucked your phone back in your purse and looked around. A proper drink would calm your nerves but you couldn’t find your server. You could flag down another but you didn’t want to treat them like they were interchangeable or inhuman. So you waited, occasionally peeking around for the man in the pressed white button-up. It had been half an hour and you were struggling to sit still. You stared at your phone screen.  _Nothing._

A shadow moved beside you and you looked up, hopeful that your server had finally return. Instead you found a blonde man, clean shaven with sparkling blue eyes, his hair combed back neatly. He wore a dark blue button-up and a perfectly tailored jacket, emanating an air of authority. As if no one had ever told him no. You recognized him but he wasn’t Danny.

“Have you been helped?” He asked with a flawless smile, “You look a little…lost.”

“Um, my date is just late. I wanted to, um, get a drink,” You said meekly, touching your jaw nervously as you spoke. His eyes followed the movement of your fingers and you quickly rescinded them, tucking your hand under the other.

“I can get that for you,” He offered, “We’re a bit busy tonight so forgive my servers for forgetting you. What will we have?”

“Um, I…” You took the oblong wine menu in hand and opened it, the words all gibberish to you. You usually just grabbed the wine you could afford off the shelf. “I…” You scanned the French titles and pressed your lips together, trying to hide your shock at the price of a single glass.

“May I make a suggestion?” He filled the void and you nodded, looking up at him once more. “Do you prefer red or white?”

“Red,” You answered, trying to seem unfazed by his presence. You weren’t expecting to be served by the boss and your situation was not making you any less bothered.

“The merlot is nice and rich but not too strong,” He explained, “My personal favourite. I have it imported for the restaurant on my own dime. No other in New York serves it.”

“Um, I’ll try that then,” You snapped closed the menu, flinching at the noise as you hadn’t meant to shut it so harshly. “Thank you.”

“Not at all, I’ll be back,” He marched away from you towards the bar and you stood slightly to look over your shoulder and the other patrons. Another fifteen minutes and you’d just accept that you had been stood up. The realization made your cheeks burn and you took out your phone once more, typing a quick message to Tandi, ‘He stood me up.’

The owner returned and set the glass before you with the same smile as before. He was even more handsome than the man who was supposed to be here with you. “Thank you,” You mumbled as you pinched the stem between three fingers.

“You’re welcome,” He chimed, “Anything else I can do for you?”

“N-no,” You stuttered, trying to hide the humiliation skittering up your neck. “Thanks. I’m okay.”

“I’ll be back to check on you, alright?” He assured and you nodded, watching him as he went.

It was nice to be treated kindly, even if it was the man’s livelihood.  _Hell_ , he didn’t even have to be cordial. He owned the place.  _Shit,_  he more than owned the place. He was a former Avenger, renowned around the world. Steve Rogers had saved the entire city from ruin and was a king among the masses. After the incident in Sekovia, he had retired, and many pondered at his new choice in vocation. You gathered it had been a thoughtful decision as he hadn’t ever lived a normal life. Yet, even in his own day, there were restaurants and it was simple enough to know what tasted good and what didn’t.

When the fifteen minutes had passed and you had been sitting there for a whole hour, you checked your phone and it was still lifeless. Your glass empty, you stood and headed for the washrooms, hiding in the narrow hallway just next to the kitchen. You dialed Tandi’s number, your head swimming with hurt. The ringing echoed in your ears and finally she answered.

“He fucking stood me up, Tandi!” You hissed, keeping your voice low. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, hun, I didn’t think–He hasn’t said anything to me,” She said sympathetically, “Just…oh, oh…uhhh…”

“What is it?” You asked, swallowing stiffly as tears threatened to rise. You were completely embarrassed.

“N-nothing,” She sputtered and you huffed at her poor attempt at lying.

“Just tell me,” You looked over your shoulder as a server exited the kitchen, the door swinging noisily behind him.

“He, um, just posted a Snap,” She admitted quietly, “He’s at The Pillar.”

“Oh my god,” You touched your forehead.  _Don’t cry._  You didn’t even know the guy. He was a complete stranger and it was better that he stayed that way. “I’m never doing this again, you go that? I’m too old for this childish bullshit.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I–” She replied desperately.

“It’s not your fault,” You interrupted her, “It’s his for being a jackass.” You crossed your free arm across your middle and turned towards the dining room, “I gotta go.”

You didn’t wait for her response as you walked back to your table and sat, slipping your phone back in your purse and pulling out your wallet. You were just going to go home and forget about this. You tried not to frown, a neutral expression was enough to get you through. You sensed movement and looked up as Steve approached once more, his eyes on your empty glass. “Would you like a refill?”

“No, I’m good thank you,” You opened your wallet and dug out some cash, more than enough for the wine but you wouldn’t stiff the owner on a tip. “It seems there’s been a change in plan,” You gave a poor excuse for a smile and stood, holding out the money. “You were right. The wine was good.”

“It’s on me,” He gently pushed away your hand, “You sure you’re not hungry? We have some great specials.”

You stifled a dry laugh. “I appreciate you being so nice but I’ve lost my appetite,” You couldn’t help the edge to your voice, “Really, thank you.”

“No worries,” He turned his palms out in a placating manner, “Maybe come back sometime…when you’re hungrier?”

“Yeah, maybe,” You fibbed. You didn’t have the money or the pride to return. “Thanks, again.”

“Have a good night,” He smiled and stood back, letting you pass as he watched you intently. There was something about him that tickled your nerves. He seemed friendly enough but there was more to it. It was almost like he was wearing a mask. Something more than the typical customer service act. You could feel his eyes follow you until you had passed the bar and turned the corner to the front desk. You requested your coat from the hostess and waited for her to find your plain pea coat.  _It was nothing,_  you told yourself. He was just being nice. Being stood up had just put you off.


	2. Small World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader sees a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference to setting, see the previous chapter. As for this one, I hope you have patience. Now, Witness kinda took a few chapters to get to the crux, but this one might take a little longer. ;) But I promise, it’s going to be some very fucked up Steve eventually. In advance, I thank everyone for following along and soon I will start adding to other WIPs one Witness is finished (maybe finally start that Medieval AU lol) <3
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the comments.

You were annoyed that you had wasted time at that restaurant waiting on yet another unreliable and selfish man. You could’ve used the hour finishing your latest commission but instead you spent your Saturday morning on the project. You usually tried to save that day for yourself. Self-employed, you made it a priority to work at least six days a week. You were paid well enough, quite successful as it was, but you liked the security of having a little extra under your belt. Besides, it always made you anxious to think that you could be actually doing something instead of lazing around on your couch watching Netflix.

Plus, you needed the distraction from your self-pity. The humiliation lingered for a few days after and even your work couldn’t erase it entirely.  _Why hadn’t he come? Was it an innocent case of forgetfulness? Or maybe he had changed his mind after seeing you_. Tandi had exchanged your information via Facebook and he had seen your photo the same as you had his. Perhaps he hadn’t been as pleased at the prospect. Ugh, you didn’t even know him.  _Just forget it!_

It was Wednesday and the disappointment was still a speck at the edge of your mind. It was sunny for once, a light jacket over your blouse and jeans as you basked in the warming spring air. You walked merrily to the park, happy to be outside, refreshed almost. You found a place on one of the bench, the melody of birds and interspersed voices of people filling the flowery air. You pulled your tablet and pen from your leather tote and opened up your program, working on the outline of the geometric logo you had started the night before.

Every now and then you looked up from your work and admired the serenity nestled amidst the chaotic city. You crossed your legs, resting your tablet against your knee and continued to draw, the sunlight hugging you. A blur moved across the top of your vision and paused, looming closer and you slowly looked up. The tablet nearly slid off your knee as you spotted the man approaching you. It couldn’t be.

“Hey, it’s you,” Steve greeted, his perfect smile shining brighter than the sky. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name the other night.”

“Um, Y/N,” You answer, shading your eyes from the sun beaming over his shoulder, “You remember me?”

“A face like yours is easy to remember,” He replied coyly, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Yeah, I uh…know,” You admitted shyly, “Thanks again…”

“Oh, it was nothing,” He waved away the gratuity, “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead,” You shrugged, steadying your tablet across your knee.

“Are you drawing something?” He asked, your tablet half-dimmed as it threatened to lock.

“Yeah. Working actually,” You explained, clicking the sleep button and shifting the screen against your thigh. “I’m a graphic artist.”

“Ah,” He nodded, “Makes sense. It must be fun. Doing something creative like that.”

“It can be,” You answered, “I…” You paused, his eyes never leaving yours. He was so intent on you, as if no one else was in the park. _How had he picked you out among the crowd?_ Half of New York had probably been in his restaurant. You shook away the overly paranoid questions and continued. “Depends on the job, really. I mostly just do corporate logos and designs. Can’t really get paid for what I want to draw.”

“Well, what do you like to draw?” He stretched his arm over the back of the bench, you almost didn’t notice as it slid behind you. You were sure it was just a casual gesture, a habit he didn’t give much thought to, but it felt entirely too intimate.

“Life, I guess. People, animals, trees. I just like to create scenes, not just…symbols,” You said, nervously twirling the pen between your fingers. “I prefer to paint, really.”

“Oh, yeah? Do have any of them on that thing?” He pointed to the tablet, “Anything you’re willing to show me?” You blinked as his tone caught you off-guard. He was talking about your art and yet it seemed like he meant something more. You could’ve sworn his eyes had strayed from your face for just a second.  _God, you were crazy._  After being stood up and nearly two years by yourself, you were growing delusional.

“I might, I, um…one second,” You unlocked your tablet and saved your work. You opened your gallery and flipped through your files, settling on a quick sketch you had done of a sparrow that had built a nest outside your building. “It’s just a drawing, but, um, here.”

You handed over the tablet and he tilted it so he could see the screen, his brows lifting as his eyes ran over the lines and shadows done in monochrome, splashes of auburn here and there to give a hint of life to the sketch. “Wow, that’s really good.” He looked up, holding the tablet out to you, “You’re very talented.”

“Thanks,” You looked away shyly, “Really, it’s just a sketch. I’ve seen way better.”

“No, no, what you do is amazing. You shouldn’t compare yourself to others,” He smiled as you took the tablet, your fingers brushing his by accident. “You’re you and that makes it more than a sketch. It’s art.”

You allowed yourself a small smile. “Thank you,” You locked your tablet again and set it on your lap, resting your pen beside it.

“Well,” He slowly pulled his arm out from behind you, his warmth releasing you as he stood. “I’ll leave you to it. I’d hate to keep you from you work.” He checked his watch as he spoke, “And I’ve got to get to the restaurant for dinner service.” He looked back to you, his blue eyes searching you, considering you closely as he measured his next words, “You should definitely come back some time. You know, no date required.”

“Yeah, uh, sure,” You nodded evasively. You didn’t really want to admit that you couldn’t go back not because you were dateless but because you had bills. “It was, uh, surprising to run into you.”

“You, too,” He grinned, his golden brows twitching, “The special tonight is salmon. You should give it a try….have a good one.”

He turned away, strolling across the park and onto the street. You drew your brows together as you saw a silver car pull up and he got inside. _Why would he be walking through the park if he had a town car?_ You shook your head and readjusted your tablet across your knee. Maybe he had just gotten out to stretch. You doubted he had gone out of his way to bug you.

————-

You balanced the mugs, careful not to spill any of the foam as you walked between tables and found your seat by the window. Tandi was sat with her phone out, grinning at the screen like an idiot. You set her latte in front of her and cupped your own warm mug as you sat down. She finished typing and relinquished her phone on the table. She looked up at you, starry-eyed over her latest fling. Well, they’d been seeing each other for a couple months so maybe it  _was_  getting serious.

“I’m real sorry about Danny,” She said. She had arrived as you were waiting in line, grabbing a seat as you bided your time in the queue. Your mouth twitched and you looked away. The heat still rose in your cheeks whenever you thought of the painful hour spent in the restaurant. It had been more than a week.

“It’s not your fault,” You grumbled, “It was just embarrassing…I can’t believe I sat there that long. It was like everyone was staring at me.”

“I’m sure they weren’t, but it was a dick thing to do. I’ve blocked him on Snap, Facebook, and Twitter.” She smirked, “So yeah, fuck him.”

“Ha, thanks,” You scoffed, raising your mug to sip from it, the foam cooling the espresso. Your eyes wandered out the window as you leaned back in your chair.

“You know, not all guys are like that, Y/N,” She trilled, “Carson’s a nice guy and he has lots of friends.”

“I don’t want to date any of your boyfriend’s bros,” You protested, watching the passerbys through the glass. “Carson’s nice but not my type and I can’t imagine his friends are of a different cut.”

“Well, you should at least consider someone. Anyone!” She said dramatically, but before you could chuckle it caught in your throat. You swore you recognized that blonde head across the street. You couldn’t say for sure as it quickly ducked into the suit shop and you blinked as the mug in your hand wobbled. You steadied your grip and turned back to Tandi. Right, you  _were_  going crazy.

“I will. One day. But I’m fine right now. Work’s good and steady and I feel pretty good. I can do what I want when I want…Living with Mike was difficult and I didn’t even realize how much I hated it til he was gone.” You stopped yourself before you could get too emotional. “I know it’s been a long time, but I’m working on it, a little at a time.”

“I know…” She reached over and touched the back of your hand, “I just want you to be happy; healthy.”

You smiled. A genuine smile. Not the one you put on for strangers or when you were anxious. A real one and it felt good. You took another gulp and waited for Tandi to begin her usual train of gossip. She always had the messiest stories about her workplace; she was an actor and had garnered many a theatre job, enough at least to keep her studio apartment. Once she began, it was hard to stop her and your latte was drained by the time she finished.

Her phone shook the table. She flipped it over and checked the notification, her face shone. “Carson’s back from his trip,” She almost sang. You stared at her and sighed as her eyes rounded brightly.

“Go on,” You relented, “You’re free to go. I won’t keep you. Just call me when you get a chance… _if_  you get a chance.”

“Thank you,” She stood so quickly she hit the table with her hip. She pulled on her thin trench, pulling taught the belt around her thin waist. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know. That’s why I’m letting you go,” You crossed your arm, “Just let me know you’ve arrived safely. You know I’m paranoid.”

“Sure, sure,” She leaned down to give you half-hug, “I’ll see you.”

“See you,” You patted her lower back in return, “Bye.”

You watched her go, content at least with the hour shared with her. You couldn’t expect her to put her life on hold because you had. You weren’t bitter but you mulled her words. Just because one jerk had stood you up didn’t mean they all would. Maybe not today or tomorrow or the next day, but you’d be ready to start again one day. For now, you wanted to pop into the used bookstore just across the street. You always found something interesting there.

You stepped out into the cool spring afternoon, the evening looming as a hint of rain floated in the air. You ran across the street and hopped up onto the curb, your focus solely on the book shop. You entered with a ring, the small bell above the door announcing your entrance. The storekeeper was sat at a desk stacked with book, the daily newspaper held aloft like a shield. You headed for the back shelves where vintage magazines were kept in old filing crates. You liked to use them for inspiration.

As you picked out decades-old issues, the bell jingled again but you didn’t pay much heed to the arrival of another. You continued to thumb through the magazines until you had half a dozen, content that they would last you a while. You stood and looked along the shelf, walking parallel to it slowly as you read the titles of ancient odes and medieval limericks. You stopped to pull out a collection of Wordsworth, the spine thin and worn, easily falling open in your hand.

“Excuse me,” The voice interrupted you before you could finish reading the title of the first poem. It was oddly familiar. Your lashes fluttered in disbelief, “You dropped…” Steve’s voice died and he chuckled as you turned to him slowly, “You again.”

“Uh-huh,” You mumbled warily. It had been him on the street retreating into the suit shop. That would prove he had been in the area for more than an hour but  _why?_  He held no wares from his visit to the tailor’s.  _Another coincidence?_  Surely, you weren’t that special.

“As I was saying, you dropped this,” He held up the white pen you used with your tablet. It had likely slipped out as you knelt at the crates.

“Thanks,” You accepted it and tucked it snuggly in the side pocket.

“What’s that you got there?” He asked, nodding at the book in your hand.

“Nothing,” You closed it and placed it back on the shelf. “I was just wasting time.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled, resting his hand on the shelf as he leaned on it casually. “I just kinda stumbled in. Saw this copy of Dante’s Inferno,” He held up the painted cover which depicted an eerie cave spiralling ever downward, “My mother used to keep a copy but I never read it. Thought maybe I could give it a try.”

“Cool,” You hugged the magazines to you chest. Something about him being there at that exact moment was off. The unease was stronger than it had been at the park; his spontaneous visit had been more believable then. You tried to smile. You were being dumb. And what were you even afraid of? He used to be an Avenger. He was good guy. “I was actually just about to head–”

A clap of thunder shrouded your next words. You looked past the bookshelves as the light rain you had failed to notice through the window began to pour down in sheets. Your distress must have been plain as your lips parted slightly.

“Do you need a ride?” He asked, shaking you from your despair. You looked back to him and tried to think of something. Anything.

“I’ll catch a cab,” You shrugged him off, trying to seem unperturbed. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Don’t waste your money. You can share my town car. He’s just outside. I’m sure you don’t live too far out of the way.” He smirked, his hand shifting along the shelf as he edged closer. You almost didn’t notice the subtle movement.

“Really, I can’t. You’ve already done enough. I really should, um, go.” You back away only to find the corner at your back.

“I won’t let you say no,” He asserted, “Come on. Just a car ride. That’s it. I mean, do you really wanna stand out in this and hail a cab?”

You stared up at him as you considered the invitation.  _Why were you so reluctant?_  He had done nothing to earn your distrust. If anything, he had only done you favours.  _But why? Oh, shut up brain, he wasn’t Mike_.  _Or Danny._  He actually seemed like a decent human being so  _why were you being so dumb?_

“Okay,” You relented, “Sure. Why not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See ya in the comments and the next chapter!


	3. Admiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader gets a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I’m in a bit of a limbo trying to decide what to focus on now that Witness is all done (except for posting). I’m also working on raffle winners. Hopefully, when I hit 1000 followers and get some stuff sorted, I can open real requests (although I might do it for a short window as I’d hate to let people down), but that’s for the future.
> 
> This series is gonna get weird in a bit. Like, I mean dark!Steve is a beast but this version, well let me personally apologize to Marvel and Chris Evans for what I have done.

After purchasing his copy of  _Inferno_ , Steve typed on his phone swiftly and tucked it back in the inside pocket of his jacket. You paid for your magazines and shielded them beneath your wool coat as you braced yourself for a brief dash through the rain. He opened the door with another ring of the bell and directed you out ahead of him, pausing just beside you under the awning. A silver car pulled up, the same you had seen that day at the park, and Steve's hand gently nudged your arm, urging you towards the car.

* * *

 

He stepped ahead of you and briskly opened the door, waving you within and you ducked into the vehicle, eager to be out of the shower of cool spring drops. Your hair was half-soaked from only seconds in the downpour and your wet ponytail clung to the collar of your jacket. Steve sidled in next to you as you moved across the leather seat, fumbling your magazines as you settled against the opposite door. A dark screen separated the backseat from the front, the driver still a faceless steering wheel.

“Whew,” Steve pushed back the hair which had fallen forward in the rush, “It's almost refreshing after the winter we had.”

“Yeah,” You agreed flatly, embracing the magazines as you kept your eyes forward.  Even as you pressed yourself to the door, he felt entirely too close. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem, but we better tell Deni where to go.” He tapped on the black screen with two knuckles and it jolted down slightly, enough for sound to pass through. “Your address?”

“Um,” You hesitated to say. You hadn't really thought this out. Steve had been nice but he was a complete stranger. A stranger you had managed to run into several times in a city so big you never saw the same face twice. It was too late to go back, you resigned as you looked out at the rainy pavement. “It's ------.”

“You haven't stopped by the restaurant yet,” He remarked, his arm stretching across the seat as it had done on the park bench.

“Sorry, I've been working. I've got a quite a few commissions.” You laid the magazines flat on your lap, nervously resting your palm on the top cover.

“Well whenever you find a chance, the meal’s on me,” He smiled. “And the wine.”

“I can't do that. Really, I'll come, but I can pay for myself.” You already felt as if you had accepted far too much and with every favour, you felt more of an obligation to the man. You didn't like that feeling. You had worked for two years to become your own person, you weren't going to toss it away over a five-star dinner.

“I'm sorry your date never showed up,” He said plaintively, “He missed out.”

You winced and cleared your throat. Even he knew you had been stood up. “He had an emergency and well it just didn't work out anyways. He's not really my type.”

“You have a type?” He smirked and you suddenly felt as if oxygen was foreign to your body. A martian trapped on a planet not your own. He was looking to you expectantly as you tried to muster words and answer.

“Well, I don't know. I guess we just didn't, um, mesh,” Your fingers tapped nervously on the magazines. Tension rose between you, the warmth of his arm across the seat seeped around you.

“Hey, I keep forgetting to ask. You got a business card? I've been thinking of a rebrand for Spice next year. In this business, you gotta keep on top of trends,” He spoke casually but there was conspiracy in his tone. “Maybe you can send me some pricing and stuff.”

“Uh, maybe,” You cursed your own savviness at keeping cards on your at all times. He already knew your address,  _did he need everything else?_  You could feign not having one but you were sure he'd find a way to get your info. You flicked out a card and held it out to him. He took it and read the small font, running his index along the edge. A glimmer of victory shone in his eyes.

The car came to a stop and you looked over as it pulled into your lot. Thank God. “Um, this is me.” You squeaked, thankful for the out. “I appreciate the ride.”

“Anytime,” He slowly lowered his arm back to his side as you opened the door and climbed out.

You looked back briefly as he said goodbye, the rain having slowed to tolerable. His eyes devoured your every move, clinging to you until the door shut. You swirled around to hide the bob in your throat as you tried to swallow your discomfort.  _It had to be all in your head, right?_ Your past just made you distrustful; cautious. You walked up to your building and into the lobby. You glanced over and the silver car remained on the street. You unlocked the main door and let yourself in, happy for the protection of the self-locking entrance. The car didn’t move was even as you stepped onto the elevator, its silver body visible just through the front doors. Even as the doors closed, you could still the vehicle looming like a phantom; watching, waiting.

\--------------

A couple days and nothing unusual happened. You spent Tuesday morning at your desk. By four, you were content with all you had done and finished up your emails. You had managed to convince yourself that you had been reading the situation too closely. Not a peep or sight of Steve. You realized now he must have asked for your card as a courtesy, his offer of a free meal extended without expectation of fulfillment. You felt even more the fool for thinking it had been more than chance. You were still the antsy woman who had been stood up at the hippest joint in the city.

As the weather grew nicer you tried to get out more. The winter had been long and frigid, many of your nights spent wrapped in a throw as you hunched over your tablet. You wanted to enjoy the sunshine before it got too humid to breathe. You threw on a zip-up hoodie and grabbed your purse, ambling down the stairs with your headphones snug over your ears. You turned on some dreamy Hozier melodies and disappeared into the endless stream of pedestrians on  the New York streets.

You took your usual route, the noise of traffic muted by your music and you turned into the park, heading along the benches as the smell of pollen filled your nose. The tulips were start to open up and the trees had full branches as the leaves had returned in lush prestige. You turned down the path that led to the sanctuary where the municipal council was trying to preserve a piece of nature in the urban jungle.

There were small checkpoints along the path, a bench and the occasional picnic table to rest or sit and take in the rare palatial scene. You sat on the bench and watch a squirrel climb the winding branches, leaping bravely from one to the next. You smiled as you enjoyed the moment of peace, the rhythm lifting you up as you leaned back and stared at the clouds through the leaves. You should have brought a sketchbook you bemoaned to yourself.  _Well, maybe next time._

You sat until the day began to dim to evening and you stretched before setting off the way you had. You stopped at the first curve of the trail, your eye caught by an unusual rustle of a bush. Your heart caught but you found it to be nothing more than a breeze. You chuckled to yourself and carried on. That path was empty as the night loomed. You could see the edge of the park just ahead and you relaxed just a little.

You took out your phone to restart the song and were suddenly pulled off-balance. A thick arm wrapped around your middle and pulled you into the thicket, turning you and pushing you against a large oak. You tried to shove yourself away and break free from between the tree and your accoster but they were too strong. 

You clawed at the thick forearm and another hand came up, the edge if your vision catch the hem of white rag. The smell that hit you was sickening as you were smothered and you tried not to inhale but your only alternative was to suffocate. Your head turned woozy and your vision blurred, your body falling limp as the black swallowed you up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the comments. <3


	4. Land of Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader wakes up but is she still dreaming?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s number four. Things are going to get real weird and I can say that it’s a pretty slow burn dark!fic in terms of actual smut. Sorry, you guys but I’m laying some very important groundwork for Psycho Steve (This is only a joke, I am in no means demeaning or making fun of mental illness) here. In this chapter, we get a glimpse but there will be so much more to come.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the comments. <3

You were running in your dreams. The arms which had swept you into unconsciousness still pursuing you, footsteps unheard as the beating of a bass drum echoed in your ears. Branches lashed at your arms, thorns tearing your sleeves and cutting deep into your skin until you were trapped, the arm enclosing you until you could not breathe. You were paralyzed, sinking into the dirt as you were swallowed by the earth, acrid green leaves and sharp blades of grass burying you as you opened your mouth to scream. Your voice never rose as darkness overtook your vision, a sliver of distant light beckoning you downward.

Your eyes opened with a flutter. Your head felt terribly heavy and your limbs weak. It took a moment for your vision to clear and your last memories to rise to the surface. You remembered being crushed against the tree bark and the vice around your middle, the chemical burn filling your nostrils. You stared up at the white ceiling above the frame of the canopy; blue petals on grey linen. You inhaled deeply as you realized you didn’t know where you were. You coughed, your mouth was dry and tasted awful. You slowly sat up and groane as your head reverberated.

You still wore your hoodie and jeans. The only thing missing were your sneakers, likely too dirty to grace the grey on blue bedspread which reversed the same pattern as the canopy. Your ponytail sagged as you looked around the room lit only by the light edging in between the curtains. You could see the outlines of furniture around the room and you carefully reached over to pull the chain of the lamp on the night table.  _Christ_ , you felt as if you had been transported to the last century.

The decor was severely dated but pristine nonetheless. A vanity was placed diagonal in the corner and the mirror refracted the odd glimmer of light. You looked around at the several doors around the room; one on each wall to your left and right, another three on the wall facing you. The bedroom was rather large, the king-sized bed you rested on took up only a portion of the space. A sofa stood on the other side of the bed, a white fur rug in front of it to match the before the vanity. A matching footstool sat near it, blue floral on white with a polished wooden frame. You were seriously tripping out.

A glass pitcher on one of the night tables caught your eye, a tall glass beside it. You gulped, your tongue felt let cardboard. You guessed that you had more to worry about than tainted water. You sidled to the edge of the bed and filled the glass, salivating at the stream of the pitcher. You drank deeply until it was empty, holding back the sudden bubble which threatened to rise from your stomach. You felt a little better. Well, as good as you could in this place.

You held your head as you stood, crossing to the door on the wall near the sofa. It opened to reveal a pristine bathroom; a claw foot tub added to the vintage feel. You turned back and went to the wall facing the bed, testing the doors with no result. The handles didn’t budge. The last door, that closest to the vanity was light but didn’t give. You could guess that it was a closet of some sort. You sighed.

You went to one of the windows on either side of the bed next to the night table and tried to lift the pane. Nothing. You hadn’t expected otherwise. You spun around, exasperated, the scene outside betrayed nothing of your location. By the trees and blowing grass, you could guess you were outside the city. The chair to the vanity caught your eye, a dainty pink garment folded beneath several other pieces of pale silk and satin. An envelope sat atop the pile. A shudder went through you. It was your only clue.

You lifted the envelope and opened the lip, sliding out the folded letter within. The writing was narrow and slanted but legible.

_My Dearest,_

_Forgive me for leaving you alone but my work keeps me busy. Please, have a drink of water and try to relax. The powder room is to your right. You are welcome to wash up. There is a towel on the rack and I’ve left you a change of clothes. Everything you need can be found in the cabinet and your vanity. If you should grow bored, I’ve left something for you to read on the night table._

_Please, do not fret. I will return soon._

What the fuck?! You shoved the paper back in the envelope and tossed it onto the vanity with a scoff.  _Great,_ some psychopath had taken you to his bunker. You looked down at the stack of clothing and sifted through it; everything looked to be fresh out of the forties. High-waisted satin panties, a matching brassier with all-too-obvious seams, thigh-high nylons and matching garters. There was also a silken shift to go over the undergarments and the dress had too much padding in the shoulders paired with a dramatically cinched waist. You folded it back up and stepped away, crossing your arms as you spotted the kitten heels beneath. This was like a scene out of the Stepford Wives. Whatever it was, you weren’t going along with it.

You turned and dragged your feet across the floor, the wood smooth against your socks. You neared the night table on the other side of the bed. A magazine stared back at you, the words emblazoned across the top made your blood boil;  _Woman’s Home Companion_. It was dated 1940. Okay, now you were really freaked out. I mean, waking up here was bad enough, but whatever the weirdo who had brought you here had planned, was crazy.

You took the magazine and tore each out, letting the sheets fall to the floor in a pile. You dropped the detached cover and back on the top and returned to the vanity, pulling the chair over to look out the window. You could at least dream of a way out even if this dumb thing wouldn’t budge!

\------------

It wasn’t until you heard the lock click that you were aware someone else was there. You would have thought you would hear them coming but it would be logical to think maybe the person who had abducted you had thought to soundproof their prison. You stood and stilled the shaking in your hands as you returned the chair to the vanity, and crossed your arms in expectation. In bracing yourself against the lunatic who was about to come through that door.

Your heart felt as if it would collapse in on itself and time stood still as if the whole world had stopped turning and every atom was compressed within your body. _It couldn’t be…_ You gaped at Steve as he closed the door and his eyes searched the room until they landed on you. He smiled. You dropped your arms and backed up blindly until you were against the window, your blood seared in your veins. You couldn’t believe it.  _Why had he done this? Why were you here? Better yet, where were you. And why was he smiling?_

“You’re awake,” He greeted as he set down a long insulated bag, “Have you not had time to clean up?” He made to step nearer but stopped short at the end of the bed. His face fell as he was distracted by something else and walked around the other side. He exhaled loudly and bent to lift the pile of pages, shaking his head. “Honey, what is wrong?” You frowned, watching as he dropped the destroyed magazine on the bed.  _Was he serious?_ You looked at him as if he was from another planet. “I’m sorry I had to leave but my general manager has the flu. I had to go to the restaurant and--”

You suddenly darted towards the door he had just come through. Finally your fight or flight had kicked in. You barreled forward, fumbling with the handle for only a second before you were ripped away from the door. He was so fast. And strong. You should’ve known. Just because he wasn’t an Avenger anymore, didn’t mean he wasn’t a super soldier. You struggled against his arm as it clung around your waist and you kicked around, trying to stomp his toes. “Let me go, you lunatic!” You hollered, “Let me go.”

“Oh, dear, what’s come over you?” He easily moved you around, turning you in his arms as he kept you flush against him. “This is so unlike you.”

“You don’t know me,” You snapped, trying to push him away but your arms were trapped between your bodies. “Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about this.”

“Let you go?” He released you and chuckled, “Go where? You’re already home?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Now, honey, you know I don’t like that kind of language,” He reproached as you slowly backed away. His eyes strayed to the door and he caught your hand before you could go further. “And look at you. You haven’t even dressed yourself.”

“I don’t want to wear those,” You tried to pull away but he merely threaded his thick fingers through yours, and pulled you close again, trapped in a motionless slowdance.

“Don’t make me do it,” He whispered dangerously, “I don’t want to remember us like this.”

“What the fuck!?” You writhed against him, trying to free yourself but he was too strong.

“If I have to tell you not to swear again, I’m going to have to wash your mouth out,” He threatened, his voice rising just a little. His tone was paralyzing and you stared up at him as fear crawled along your flesh. A sudden epiphany swept over you, your nerves drawn tight. In one move, he could break you. Kill you, even. “And if you don’t go get cleaned up and change into your proper clothes, I’ll just do it for you. It’s up to you, Y/N.”

You stared up at him wide-eyed. It took a moment to catch your breath and your stomach turned. You lip trembled as you tried to speak and you bit it to hide the tremor. You cleared your throat and nodded, inhaling at last. “Okay,” Your voice was small, distant, almost as if it wasn’t your own. It wasn’t, really. It was his. You had to say what he wanted or he might make you do worse. “Yes, I’ll go get cleaned up, okay?”

“That’s it, dear,” He reached up to touch your cheek, cradling your chin, your eyes burning as you held back the tears. “Always so sweet to me.”

You gulped and tried not to flinch. You let him sway you in place, steeling yourself against his touch.  _Play along_ , you told yourself,  _keep him calm, and bide your time._


	5. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader spends her first night with Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no juicy stuff. I’ll be honest, that’s going to take a while but let’s all enjoy the crazy side of Steve. The slightly scary side. I’m loving this series but I don’t have to get back to it. Right now I’m at about part 8 in writing but I have a vision of the future in my head. I just wanna do it right for you all.
> 
> As always, I appreciate comments and thoughts! <3 Enjoy the chapter.

Steve’s eyes never left you as you dutifully crossed to the vanity and collected the clothes from the table where you had moved them. You couldn’t bear to look at him. You were terrified. He was so much stronger than you. And he was confusing. He seemed every inch the gentleman, doting and kind, but in an instant, he could flip. If you had any hope of getting out of here, you had to be patient.

You closed the bathroom door behind you but found there was no lock on it. The little switch behind the handle had been removed.  _Great._  You set the stack of clothing on the toilet and approached the tub, turning the faucets as you listened for movement in the next room. Again, it was completely muted. You paced as the tub filled, testing the frosted window but with much the same result as those in the bedroom. You hung your head and whined.

You turned off the water and slowly undressed, looking over your shoulder to make sure the door was still closed. You dipped your toe in, wincing against the heat of the water. You carefully lowered yourself but couldn’t bring yourself to lay back. You hugged your knees to your chest and stared at the porcelain wall of the tub. At least you could waste the time just to be away from him. Your head was spinning as you tried to figure out what exactly he intended. He was deranged, that was for sure.

You were content to freeze in the water as it turned cold but a knock came at the door. “Are you okay, dear?” Steve’s voice added to the chill.

“I’m fine,” You called out, afraid he would come in.

You waited until the shadow of his figure moved away from the bottom of the door and you stood, reaching for the fresh towel. You wrapped yourself in the plush linen and dried yourself on the bathmat. You wrapped your hair and approached the attire he had chosen for you. The bra and panties were easy enough; not much had changed with those. The garters were another thing; they were uncomfortable and you hated the feel of the thigh-high stockings. You pulled on the shift and finally dared to squeeze yourself into the pink dress. The belt cinched your waist snugly and the shoulder pads were not as big as you thought. Even so, it was uncomfortable. Your ass felt much to big for the top of the skirt and it must have been noticeable as the fabric strained around your thighs as you walked.

You sat on the toilet to slip into the shoes, standing reluctantly to remove the towel. You opened the cabinet, a brush on the middle shelf. You combed out your damp hair, pushing it back as you weren’t uncertain what to do with it. You turned to stare at the door. You didn’t want to go back out. You feared what he had waiting for you (other than himself). Gathering all your strength, you marched to the door and pulled it open.

On the other side, Steve sat on the sofa expectantly, a stack of magazine balanced on his knee. He smiled up at you, his eyes deliberately running the length of your body. You crossed your arms as you tried to shield yourself. “It fits you well,” He patted the cushion beside him, “Come. I have some gifts for you.” You neared cautiously and sat lightly on the couch. He shifted closer, “Now, when I’m gone, I don’t want you sitting around doing nothing. It’s not healthy.”

Your brows knitted together but you said nothing. “You’ve got to keep yourself busy. Which is why I left you the magazine. I mean, I don’t want you to spend everyday locked in here and I’m sure neither do you. You’ve got the whole house to explore but you have to show me that you deserve that privilege.” He handed you another copy of Woman’s Home Companion, the magazine below was a forties beauty issue, “And this is for you. It has all sorts of hairstyles and make-up tips. I know how you girls love that.” He handed you the second magazine, “You can keep that at your vanity with your cosmetics. Just in the drawer there.”

You took it without protest, hiding your discomfort. “And I got some fashion magazines, too. I figured you could go through and get some inspiration.” He gave you the last two issues and watched you steady them on your lap. You bit the inside of your lip, the tension rising as he stared.

“Um,” You glanced up at him. His blue eyes dilated, his smile threatening to falter. “Thank you.”

“Of course, dear,” He leaned over and kissed your cheek, “And I wanted to show you one more thing.” He stood and he offered his hand. You hesitantly took it and rose, letting him guide you to the door on the other side of the bed. It opened for him and he led you inside, revealing a panoply of colours hanging along the wall. Dresses, skirts, blouses, for all occasions. Beneath was a small dresser and a rack with shoes straight out of the history books. The other half of the closet held his clothes.

“Your undergarments are in there,” He pointed to the dresser and you nodded, unsure of what to say or do. He was still holding your hand. “Tomorrow you can practice. Do your hair nice, choose your own outfit, read a little.” He drew you over to face him in the small space, “I might just bring you a surprise for being good.” He waited for an answer but you couldn’t muster more than twitch of your lip. “Are you hungry? I brought dinner from the restaurant.”

“I...sure, yeah, I guess,” You answered weakly, your stomach gurgling at the thought. His eyes turned to stone once more but his smile never wavered. “Thank you.”

“Come on,” He tugged you back to the door, “Let’s eat.”

He directed you back to the sofa, finally letting go of your hand. You placed the magazines on the vanity as you passed it. As you sat, he crossed to the door, looking over his shoulder as his hand rested on the handle. “I’ll be right back, honey.” You clasped your hands together and watched him go. You wished he would stop calling you ‘honey’ and ‘dear’. You weren’t  _his._

He returned shortly with a folding table in his hand, he set it up in front of the sofa and retrieved the insulated bag. He pulled out two plastic trays and placed them before you, a bottle of wine and two glasses as well. You recognized the name on the label. He slipped behind the table and sat beside you, uncorking the bottle and pouring the deep red into the glasses. He passed you a set of cutlery wrapped in a fabric napkin and open the tray before him. It was a rather aromatic lobster linguine. You were sure it cost more than you could pay.

“Tomorrow we can have a proper dinner. Well, depending,” He explained, pausing to stare at your tray until you removed the lid. He smiled in approval. “Do you think we can do that? Have a nice dinner at the table tomorrow?”

You searched his face confused. _What exactly was he asking you?_

“Are you going to be good?” He asked pointedly. You flinched and blinked dumbly at him.

“Y-yes,” You sounded unsure and unwrapped your own cutlery nervously.

“Well, dig in,” He chimed, picking up the glass and holding it out for a clink, “Bon appetit.”

You reached over and took the other glass, toasting it against his, the wine almost sloshing over the rim as you tried not to shake. You hid your fear behind it as you sipped, hoping it would at least dull the chaos of your nerves.

\----

You had finished your dinner, Steve making small talk to which you only answered with nods and single words. You were still trying to wrap your head around the last few hours. You couldn’t say how long you had spent unconscious but you could still feel the sluggishness in your body. And this dress was so tight. Your chest was pressed dangerously against the buttons, threatening to pop with the slightest move. You sat in a trance as Steve cleaned up the remnants of your supper and your eyes were drawn to the dark window. It was night time already.

“Well,” Steve returned, the door locked behind him. You watched him cross to the night table, pressing his finger to the handle and you heard another click as the drawer shifted open. He dropped the key inside and shut it, metal whirling to secure it shut once more. A fingerprint lock. This place may have looked fresh out of the last century but it was a prison suited to the next. It was just like the man who had brought you here; seemingly perfect with a sinister core. “It’s been a day, hasn’t it?”

You watched him stretch, his muscled arms straining against his shirt. Your eyes dropped to the bed frame.  _Shit._  Maybe you could just sleep there on the sofa. You agreed with him meekly and looked to the furred rug below your shoes. You listened to him move but refused to peek over at him out of dread. You heard the closet door and he approached you, dropping a silk nightie on your lap. “You should sleep. It will help your head.”

_How could he know that your head was rattling still from the chemical sedation? Had he done this before?_  You glanced up and lifted the nightie, rising without argument. You stepped past him and headed for the washroom, skirting inside to change in privacy and snatch a few moments alone.

You unbuttoned the front of the dress and slipped it down over your hips. You removed the bra and thigh highs eagerly and left only your panties on, hiding them beneath the lavender nightie. You bundled up your former attire and turned to the door.  _Fuck, fuck, fuck._  You wanted to stay in there but knew you couldn't. He would surely force you out and it might spoil your chances at a peaceful night.

You opened the door cautiously and passed through into the bedroom with clothes in hand. “Those can go in the hamper.” Steve advised as he laid on the bed with hands under his head, reclining with ease. “Just in the closet.” You kept your eyes on the door opposite you as you noticed that he wore nothing but a pair of thin pajama bottom, his thick torso bare as the elastic waist rested low on his pelvis, hinting at what lay further down. You flitted over to the closet and dumped your clothes in the tall basket.

When you returned to the room, his hand slipped down and ran over the empty space next to him on the mattress. He watched you expectantly. You approached tentatively from the other side, climbing up so that there was space between you. His hand wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you closer. You easily gave in, afraid of him using more force. You had already felt how strong he was. He nestled you in the crook of his arm and reached over with his other to pull the chain of lamp. The room went dark and he wrapped you in his strength; an unspoken threat.

“Good night,” He whispered in your ear as he turned onto his side, “Sweetheart.” He kissed your cheek, unable to see the wince it inspired through the dark.

You struggled for a moment to breathe, finally finding your voice, “Good night,” You returned and his hand tucked itself under your waist. He held you to him and you closed your eyes; knowing you would get little actual sleep.


	6. Domestic Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader tries to appease Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we get some more crazy Steve. It’s gonna be a holding pattern but we’ll slowly turn up the heat in the coming chapters. I’ve also restructured a few parts so this one is a bit longer than previous ones so without further ado, jump in and enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, let me know what you think in the comments! :)

You spent the night in a limbo between wakefulness and sleep. An unsated drowsiness tugging at your eyelids as the man next to you snored peacefully. Every time you were on the precipice of dozing off, you recalled the weight of his arm still around you and were jolted awake in terror. His constant embrace reminded you of the scene which had preceded this place; running from him only to be easily trapped. Your heart beating raggedly as you were overtaken by your unseen captor. And now, the realization that it was the very man you had convinced yourself not to worry about.

Your reproached yourself. You should have been more vigilant. Kept your guard up. Yet, you were so insignificant in this man’s world that it had seemed preposterous to think otherwise.  _Why would he be interested in you?_  Your eyes filled with tears but you swiftly wiped them away. You should have known.  _How had he coincidentally run into you at the park? And the bookstore?_  You  _had_ seen him across the street from the cafe.  _Had he been watching you? Following you?_ He had been so obvious and you had been so obtuse.

As the windows shone pale with the arrival of the day, a metallic ring broke the silence and you winced as Steve’s arms released you at last. He rolled over to smother the analog alarm, the clock stilling in an instant. He turned back to you, another kiss on your cheek as you gritted your jaw. You were tired of him touching you; his presence; as if he owned you. This same oppression was the reason you had left your last relationship. Less than a day and this man had you under his thumb. Trapped.

“Morning, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek, smelling your hair as he held you to him.

Your voice thrashed your throat, “Morning.” You echoed, resigned to appease him until you could think of anything else. 

If you could keep him happy, he might spare you worse than a sleepless night. His arm slithered back, his palm against your stomach, edging closer to your pelvis than up towards your breasts, but never going further. Never completing its path as if waiting for a cue. You would not give him whatever he expected.

“Come on,” He sat up suddenly, “Time to rise and shine.” He turned his back to you, muscles rippling in the dim as he stood. Your blood was chilled as you looked down at your own weak body, nothing compared to the super soldier.  _What hope did you have?_  You pushed yourself to the edge of the bed and slowly rose, crossing your arms across your chest, trying to disappear into yourself.

Steve approached the central door of the far wall, you hadn’t noticed the hooks before. Every time you looked around this place, you found something new. Another detail carefully crafted by him. He pulled on a striped robe but let it hang open, taking a silky peach robe from the next hook and turning back to you. He opened it and waited for you to respond. You reluctantly dropped your arms and spun around to let him guide the sleeves up your arms. You stepped away, pulling closed the robe and tying it tightly as if it was armour.

“So,” He began as you cautiously turned back to him, “Are you ready to be good today?”

You wanted to shrug and roll your eyes but his gaze was hot and dangerous. Even with his unwavering smile, his aura was dire. Say or do the wrong thing and he’d have you against him in an instant, like when you had tried futilely for the door. Holding you, crushing you, suffocating you. The walls around you were enough of a prison that you didn’t need him baring in on you. 

“Yes…”

“Call me sweetheart,” His hands were at your waist again, “You don’t have to be shy.”

You lashes fluttered and tried to keep your face blank. You nodded, “Yes, sweetheart,” You uttered quietly. His hand rose to touch your cheek, thumb running over your lips. He seemed to be fighting with himself as he hummed in approval of the pet name.

“Come on then,” He took your hand as he drew away from your lips, “I’ll get you all set up for the day before I go. I have some errands in the city but I should be home for dinner.” 

He guided you around the bed as he took the key from its drawer and led you to the third door along the far wall. He unlocked it and slipped the key into his robe pocket, pulling it open as he drew you into the next room.

He reached over to flip the light switch, a conical shade overhead lit up adding to the light from the single window over the counter. It was a kitchen, large and from the looks of it, only recently constructed. It matched the vintage flair of the bedroom. Canary and white tile alternating along the floor, white counters with silver trim and handles, matching cupboards, a small door which opened to a walk-in pantry to your left, a dish towel hung from the small stove with thick teal edging, and matching curtains framed the window. It was just as surreal as the rest of this place.

Steve finally let go of your hand and crossed to the counter, picking up a small booklet and returned to you. He held it out to you; ‘A Woman’s Day’. He tilted his head slightly, urging you to take it before he lost his patience, so you did and hesitantly flipped through the pages. You hid the boiling rage which piqued within you as you realized it was a guide for a housewife straight out of thirties; beauty tricks, cleaning tips, recipes, how to re-use old clothing, etc. Your grandmother would have loved this man. Your hand trembled despite your restraint and you came to the end. A daily schedule for you to fill in your task; beauty, cooking, cleaning, and even hobbies. You doubted the last category would have anything beneath it.

“You should make a schedule for yourself. Help you keep organized,” He explained, “I’ll try to adjust my own schedule accordingly. Some nights, though, I can’t help but be at work, you see?”

You softly closed the book and nodded, chewing the inside of your lip as you looked past him. _Is this what he wanted you for? What were you supposed to take care of him like his mother? Was he so lost in this century that he needed to live in the past?_  You hid your frown as you looked down, bending the booklet slightly as you stared at it.

“I know it’s different,” He touched your elbow, “But I promise it will be better. The life you were living before, that was chaos. This is paradise.”

You pulled away from him, biting back the words which bubbled in your mind. You were shaking your head as you fought with yourself. You couldn’t spend the day locked in the room and you knew that would be the result if you lost it now. You took the book in one hand and smacked it against your other palm, turning back to him as you cleared your throat and forced away your spite.

“What would you like, sweetheart?” Your voice quavered only slightly, not enough for him to notice and he smiled.

“I’ll show you how to use the coffee pot,” He pulled the door closed, convinced of your compliance, and waved you over to the stove. You followed dutifully, hoping to distract yourself in the basic tasks until he left. Then you could really think.

\---

Short of helping you figure out the mechanical percolator, Steve hadn’t helped with much else. Rather, he had watched you with an air of supervision, as if judging your skill while you readied breakfast for him and yourself. When the meal was ready, he opened the other door in the kitchen, opposite that you come in through, revealing a finely furnished dining room. A cherry wood table with matching chairs, a lace tablecloth across it, all beneath a chandelier of small lamp shades and pointed bulbs. A table by the window with a bouquet of flowers atop a doily. It felt like you were at your great-grandmother’s home; only vague memories of the woman before she passed. You were but a toddler then.

That was the extent of your freedom. Your leash was still drawn tight. You ate your breakfast, picking at it as your appetite was yet to truly appear. You forced yourself to eat only to please him. Finished, you cleared the tables and he locked the door to the dining room behind him. He left you to clean the dishes as he readied for his day, leaving the bedroom open as you went about your work. 

You looked out the window, the birds hopping after each other and you long to join them. You wanted to smell the grass, bask in the scent of pollen as the wind swirled your hair. It had barely been a day but you felt as if you hadn’t been outside in a year.

Steve emerged as you were putting away the dishes, as suave as ever. A patterned button-up of grey and blue dots beneath a dark grey blazer, jeans lending a casual air to his outfit. He looked as much the debonaire entrepreneur as the day you had met him. It curdled your stomach to think he could be so deceptively nice. Even now, his demeanour seemed but a mask to a much deeper and darker man.

“I should be home around six. I trust you’ll have everything done and dinner on the table,” His hand went to your neck and he pulled you near to kiss the top of you head, “Have a good day, honey.”

“Goodbye..” You replied dumbly, your tongue sour as you did your best to fake joy, “Sweetheart.”

He was pleased with your last word and kissed you again, this time on the cheek. He seemed to be lingering just away from your lips, resisting some deep-seeded urge. His lips were soft but the force of the peck foretold of a baser intent. He pulled away and you folded your hands in front of you, waiting for him to leave. He slowly retreated, longingly looking back before parting through the dining room door, he sound of the lock followed quickly. You sighed and your careful veneer fell.

You didn’t move for a couple minutes until you were certain he was gone. You exclaimed through your teeth madly, slapping the counter in your sudden burst of anger. You reached up to grab a glass, spinning to whip it at the door he had just left through. You screamed and slammed your fists against the counter, pounding it until you were out of breath. You hunched over the linoleum on your elbows, holding your head as it vibrated with anger.

_Why was he doing this?_ What was even more infuriating than your confinement was that he didn’t even acknowledge it. He acted as if this was normal, as if this was some sort of relationship. You had only met the man three times before and he had somehow got it in his head that you needed to be domesticated. Whatever it was, he was truly and completely insane.

You covered your face with your hands as you stood, turning blindly as you exhaled, measuring your breathing as you tried to calm yourself. You couldn’t be rash. You had to think rationally or you were doomed. He had seemingly planned for every ounce of resistance you had to offer and thus you had to get his guard down.  _Play along, honey._  You cringed at the pet name.

You dropped your arms and pushed your shoulders back. If he wanted you to be the perfect woman, you’d be the best programmed droid he could find on the market. Dutiful, polished and preened, detached. You’d go with it but inside you’d let the flames burn until you were ready. Until the day when an escape presented itself, you only prayed that it would not be too late.

You picked up the booklet and set about your daily tasks. First get washed, do your hair, moisturize, make-up, get dressed. Next, cleaning. Much of that was done already. Cooking. Well, the roast would take some time so you began your prep around noon, in between trying to figure out the more difficult hairstyles in the magazines. 

The reflection in the vanity could barely be your own. A lilac dress with short cap sleeves, another dramatic waist, the usual affair underneath. Uncomfortable as the brassier pinched your flesh and the garters scratched your thighs. You were a dame plucked straight out of the wartime hurrah. The careful eye liner reminded you not to cry and you struggled to keep a breakdown at bay. 

_How many days would be spent in such tedium?_

You were reading an article on how to keep bread fresher for longer when the handle turned. This damned place made it impossible to know when your captor had arrived. You sat on the sofa, feet on the floor in beige heels that went well with your dress. You went rigid as Steve appeared from the other side of the door, lowering the magazine to your lap.

“Dinner smells good,” He commented on the scent of herbs and onions which emanated from the kitchen.

“I was waiting for you to get home before I took it out,” You stood, speaking in a placating tone. “I can go get it ready now.”

He stopped you, blocking the door as his hands settled on your forearms. “No hurry,” He smiled, slowly leaning down. “I missed you.” He was getting closer, his lips were right in front of yours as you had no choice but to crane your neck up to look at him. This time he went straight for the lips, kissing you softly but urgently. You made no move to resist. You could tolerate it if it meant he wasn’t angry with you. “You look nice.” He said as he drew away, his hands traveling the length of your arms, slipping beneath and settling on your hips. You could see the flames licking at his irises as his pupils grew. He closed them suddenly, as if reminding himself of something, and parted from you. “You know what? I am rather hungry.”

He stood beside the door, waiting for you to pass through. You walked carefully, heels clicking on the sleek hardwood and onto the linoleum. You could feel him watching the unintentional sway of your hips and he followed closely. You swallowed as you searched for an oven glove, fearing he’d snap and carry through with whatever had shaded his eyes. He kept his distance as you opened the stove and you cursed as you had to bend to remove the large roast pan.

You placed the pan on the stove and turned the dial to off. You went about setting out two plates, picking out cutlery, steak knives, and finally a large carving blade. You held it up as it caught the light, staring at the blade as you were struck by its sharpness.  _Could it go deep enough to hurt him? Would he let you get that close?_  He was quick; trained to fend others off. You sensed the tension as you pondered the hypothetical battle and smiled. You turned instead to the cooked meat and sunk the knife into its tenderness. It wasn’t worth the risk.  _Not yet._

You filled each plate with a slab of roast beef and a healthy scoop of seasoned potatoes and carrots. You carried them out to the dining room which he had left open. You set them out as he sat at the head of the table and you returned to the kitchen for cutlery and glasses. You paused at the table, smiling sweetly through the bitterness on your tongue. 

“What would you like to drink, sweetheart?” He liked that. You could tell by the way he gripped the edge of the table as if tempted to rise.

“What would  _you_  like?” He asked, his voice airy, his eyes grazing you up and down.

“I was just going to have water,” You answered, “I have a stomach ache today.”

“Oh,” He looked down, considering you answer, “Do you need something for that?”

“No, I’ll be okay,” You assured him, “I prefer water, anyway.”

“I’ll have water too, then,” He answered with a smile and you diligently clacked away to fetch glasses and a pitcher.

You poured for him and yourself before you sat, picking up your knife and fork. You carefully cut into the beef, wishing it was him beneath the blade.  _How were you going to get out of here?_ You knew it would be foolish to go after him then. Not with such a small knife and surely not so quickly. It had only been a day. He didn’t trust you yet; he was vigilant. You carved out a square and bit into it, chewing without tasting the seasoned flesh.

“How was your day, honey?” Steve asked between bites and you looked up almost in shock. You shook the thoughts before they could show.

“It was...good,” You replied, popping a piece of potato in your mouth to save yourself further explanation. “Yours?”

“Mmm, it was fine. Some mix ups with the delivery today but we got it sorted out.” He stilled his fork, tilting his head at you keenly. “I...like coming home to you like this. Did you miss me?”

You blinked.  _Were you that skilled an actor?_  Your lips parted slightly but you couldn’t summon the lie. If you said no, he’d be annoyed and if you forced an obvious fib, it might be worse. Instead you froze, your fork and knife clattering onto the table beside your plate. All you could do was flutter your eyelids like butterfly wings.

He grunted. His smiled disappeared and he pushed his plate away and scowled. “Answer the question.” He demanded and your lips opened and closed repeatedly. 

You couldn’t breath. Your stomach lurched and you stood suddenly, the few forkfuls you had managed were on their way back up. You raced to the door but he caught you before you could flee. As he clung to you, you wretched and vomited spewed forth onto the floor, just in front of the door.

He let you go suddenly and you caught yourself against the door frame, careful not to step in the mess. You whined in embarrassment, shakily wiping your mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You began to repeat, afraid of what he would do next.

“Are you okay?” He touched the small of your back gently, “I didn’t realize you were that unwell, honey.”

“I just...I think it was the lobster last night.” You lied as you straightened up and looked to him. He squinted and nodded, as if weighing your words. “I’ll clean it up.”

“No...no,” He raised his hand, “No. I’ll take care of everything tonight. You just go get washed up and lay down. I can’t have you getting sicker.”

You considered him a moment. You weren’t sure he believed your excuse.  _Had he caught onto your ploy? Was he devising one of his own?_  Of course, he already had questionable intent but you wondered if he was trying to turn this around on you. _Was he trying to lure you into a sense of security?_ Taking care of you like this. This was more than him playing house but you couldn’t quite wrap your head around it.

“Thank you,” You said quietly and stepped over the pool of vomit, “Really.” 

Even if his offer was entirely double-sided, it allowed you time to yourself. Time to think.


	7. Perfect Illusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader makes a dire mistake.
> 
> Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+. [some touching]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this chapter, it ramps up just a little bit. We get some intense Steve and some very foolish reader. But let’s get going on this rollercoaster from hell.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the comments. <3

You washed your mouth out shakily as you held back the rest of the bile that threatened to rise. You brushed your teeth, trying to rid the acidic tang on your tongue. As you leaned over the sink, you noticed that there was vomit spattered across your dress. Never before had your fear become so visceral. You huffed as you closed your eyes, recalling the impatient fury which has hardened Steve’s features. You had been lucky; saved by the very panic he had instilled in you.

You stripped away the soiled dress, creeping into the bedroom in your shift. You scurried into the closet and dropped the dress in the hamper, pulling a sleeping gown from a hanger. You shed the shift, discarding it into the tall basket, the nightie draped over the side waiting for you. As you reached back to unclasp your bra, the door of the closet shifted and a shadow appeared over you.

“There you–” Steve’s voice caught as you looked up at him, frozen in place as you kept your bra from slipping away from your chest. His eyes roved your body and his jaw squared. His gaze darkened and he exhaled loudly, visibly shuddering. “S-sorry.” 

The wood of the closet door groused as his grip tightened and he slowly backed out of the closet. You could see the battle against some unseen force in his staggered movements, the door closing in a single motion as he barricaded himself from you.

You were stuck in a tableau as you gaped at the door. You slowly looked down at yourself; had he been a few minutes later he would have caught you in a worse state. Your garters, and thigh highs would have swiftly followed your half-undone bra, which was barely held in place over your chest. You were about to spill forth and suspected he had seen more than you could from your vantage.

His shadow retreated from the other side of the door and you let your bra fall down your arms, setting it on the small chest of drawers for the next day. Your garters and thigh highs were added to the rest of the laundry and you changed into a fresh set of panties before pulling on the knee length nightie. The fabric was as thin as all the others, barely concealing what was underneath. You shivered as you contemplated leaving the small refuge. You couldn’t hide there forever.

You shifted the door open and stepped out, keeping your attention on closing it behind you. When you looked up, the room was empty. The bathroom was open just a crack, steam seeping out as the shower pattered distantly. You were relieved to find him otherwise occupied. You approached the vanity but a noise kept you from sitting. Your palm was flat on table as the groans grew louder. Just audible past the stream of water. You dared to tiptoe past the bed, drawn by Steve’s low growls. And then you heard it. A slap against the tile followed by a long moan, the syllables of your name floating through the mist.

You began to back pedal, nearly falling as you collided with the footboard of the bed. You caught yourself with the post and carried on past it, sitting at the vanity with wide eyes. You stared at your reflection as your cheeks burned. It wasn’t hard to guess at the reason for such sounds. The faucet cranked and the shower head died. You quickly pulled open the drawer and pretended to be distracted by its contents.

You heard Steve enter, glancing at him behind you in the mirror. A towel was knotted low around his waist and his muscles rippled with each move. You looked away guiltily, finding your mind straying to what you could not see. He neared, his hands on your shoulders as he pressed himself to your back. His fingers played with the ends of your hair, “You should lay down, dear. You need your rest.”

His hand settled just above your chest, fingers twitching as if longing to venture lower. You nodded, a high-pitched “okay” as you carefully pulled away and stood, afraid to provoke the urges he was fighting. He smiled at you as you came around the stool, his arm grazing yours as he watched you climb up onto the bed dutifully. The weight of his gaze followed you as you slid your legs under the covers, hoping they could shield you.

“I’ll be with you shortly, dear,” He turned to the closet, unhooking his towel and baring his ass as he opened the door. You looked away shocked and he disappeared inside. You doubted that was unintentional. You rolled over, blankets drawn up to your chin.

You heard him return, the bed dipping as he pulled back his side of the covers and got up beside you. He sat against the headboard, tugging the blankets away from you and his hand fell onto your arm, squeezing just slightly.

“Tell me how you broke the glass,” It wasn’t a question. You were glad he couldn’t see your face. He must have sensed as much as he nudged you towards him and you rolled flat on your back.

“I knocked it over while I was cleaning,” You said meekly, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad. Did you cut yourself?” His fingers were in your hair again, feeling the ends as he spoke. You shook your head. “You must tell me if you hurt yourself or if you’re unwell…you scared me today.”

“Okay,” You complied, wanting him to just leave you be. He blinked at you, waiting. “Sweetheart.” He relaxed and you hid the bubble of anxiety as it slowly faded.

He moved to lay beside you, pulling the chain of the lamp before slinging his arm across you. He was as close as the night before and you steeled yourself against his touch. He kissed your cheek, your temple, your jawline. “You’re so precious to me. You know that, dear?” 

His hand cradled your other cheek. You nodded and his lips continued to dapple your skin. He was flush against you and you felt his excitement prodding you through his thin pajamas. You tried to shimmy away but he had you trapped.

“I’m trying to be patient,” His voice was low, his breath hot, “But you make it so hard.” 

His hand closed on your chin and he turned your head. His mouth pushed against yours, begging for entrance, demanding it and you let his tongue past. He released your chin, his hand on your neck, squeezing once before trailing further. He cupped your breast through your nightie and hummed. He pulled away suddenly. 

“No.” He fell onto his back. “We must wait.” He reproached himself more than you. You saw his hand wander beneath the blanket, settling on the bulge hidden there. “Wait.” He groaned through clenched teeth. A shaky breath escaped him. He cleared his throat, reaching over to take your hand and sling your arm across his torso. “Goodnight, dear.” He kissed the top of your head as you were forced to rest it on his shoulder, cradled by his thick arm.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” You returned, your voice thin. 

This man could barely fend off himself,  _how on earth were you to contend with him?_

—

You quickly fell into the routine of your prison. Steve’s alarm woke you, he kissed your cheek and said good morning and you rose at the same time. He went to ready himself for a day outside and you set off to make him his breakfast as you stewed in self-pity. Then he would leave and you’d clean the dishes and the mess left from cooking. When you had finished that, you washed up yourself, opting to do so when he was away. 

Ever since he had walked in on you in the closet, he had become more fixated on your body. His hands would stray to thigh or breast before quickly recoiling and reproaching himself. It was terrifying. Much of your day was spent reading the outdated magazines and doing little chores before you started the evening meal. Without Steve to remind you, you didn’t often have much of an appetite.

He had allowed you another inch on your leash; the laundry room. Unlike the decor, the appliances were from this century. You were thankful as you weren’t sure you could manage ancient technology. Today, the hamper was full and you were determined to get it done. You dragged it through the kitchen and dining room until you reached the small room meant for washing. You dumped it into the machine and added soap, sitting in the cushioned chair as you opened the booklet titled “A Woman’s Day” and turned to the back page where the daily roster remained blank.

Well, apart from the crooked branches you had started drawing with the pen. As they stretched higher they became more twisted and rotten. Like you. Your core was there but with each day in this time capsule, you felt yourself changing. You were almost complacent, catching yourself enjoying the simple chores, the quiet. And other times you loathed the very same. And Steve. When he left you were relieved but with no other company, you found yourself longing for his return. And that frightened you more than him. Your own mind was holding you captive, lulled into a false sense of security. You didn’t belong here, even if it felt like it.

You were suddenly restless. You closed the book and set it atop the whirling washer. You stood and paced around the small room.  _What were you doing here? Why hadn’t you tried to fight back?_ Well, that was simple enough. You had that first day and he had swiftly crushed any hopes of resistance. He reminded you of your weakness every night when he held you to him. His arms were the bars of your cell.  _So then why hadn’t you tried to escape?_ He left you for hours a day and you all you did was play house. You could get a head start, run and find the police before Steve found you.

You stopped short, your hands clasped together before your chest as you thought.  _Christ, there were windows in almost every room. Break one and get out!_ You shook your head as if a veil had been lifted from you and marched into the kitchen, grabbing the broom from against the wall where you had left it. You looked to the window and a small smile curved your lips. He’d have no inkling of your intentions, especially after a whole week of you acting like his little pet. He’d be shocked; angry.

You gripped the wooden handle and sped towards the wed, jabbing out the end into the glass. But instead of a shatter, it was crack. The window didn’t dissemble into shards, instead the image cracked, the point of impact formed a spider web of discolored pixels. A ragged circle, half-black and the rest a mosaic spectrum, right in the middle of the illusion of rustling trees and playful squirrels.  _It was all fake!_  It wasn’t even a window.

The lump rose in your throat and you began to shake.  _Oh fuck!_ Steve would get home and realize you had tried to escape…and you hadn’t.  _Oh no, oh no, oh no._  You slowly sunk down to your knees, sitting back as you let the broom fall beside you. You covered your face, letting out a few tears before sniffing back the rest. You had fought so hard to keep from a breakdown. You looked up at the smashed screen and whimpered. All of this was his twisted fantasy. Every window was a screen with some pre-programmed deception. You had been sitting here watching bullshit, dreaming of being free. There was  _no_  freedom.

You gulped and stood. You neared the window, pulling shut the curtains as you hoped you could distract Steve for a while before he noticed. Maybe even appease him enough that he’d believe whatever excuse you managed to you come up with. You replaced the broom in its place and returned to the laundry room, sitting with booklet in hand as you waited to switch over the laundry. You felt entirely deflated. You had been waiting for nothing. There would be no chance to flee, no window to climb through.  _Only Steve._

—

When the clothes were dry, you hung them in the closet and set the hamper back in its place. You had enough time to change before your keeper returned. You shed the long-sleeved dress in lieu of one with thick straps instead. You had opted most days for coverage but seeing as you had fucked up royally, you hoped that you could endear yourself to Steve. At least enough that he wouldn’t kill you. The thought gave you goosebumps. This man you had been living with for a week was a stranger. You didn’t know what he was capable of. Physically, you knew he could break you in half, but mentally…you still weren’t sure.

The top of your cleavage was just visible below the square neckline, your hairs was set neatly, directing all attention to the tight bodice and cinched waist. You wore heels high enough that they emphasized the movement of your hips. Even so, you felt entirely unprepared for his return. He was late that night which only stoked your dread. You sat at your vanity, bedroom door open as you listened for him and doodled along the borders of the booklet, framing the recipes with flowers and vines.

Heavy hands rested on your bare shoulders and you yelped. For all your expectation, you still hadn’t heard Steve enter. You looked up into the mirror as he leaned down to gaze back at your reflection. His head was next to yours and he kissed your cheek with a purr. “You look nice,” He said as he loomed over you, his hand wandering to the top of your chest, lingering on the bare skin. “Very nice, dear.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” You made to snap shut the booklet but he quickly lowered his hand and caught it before the pages could meet.

“What’s this?” He grabbed the booklet and easily dislodged it from your grasp. He stood straight as he flipped through the pages and and turned on the stool to watch him with round eyes. He stopped at the back page where the tree grew to ash. “Hmm,” He sighed, “Now, Y/N,” He lowered himself to kneel before you, closing the book as he set it on your lap. He pulled your hands around the thin booklet, squeezing them between his large ones. “This isn’t a sketchbook. This is to help you manage your time.”

“I–I’m sorry,” Your voice was brittle, “I…” You couldn’t think of an excuse that wouldn’t anger him.  _Bored, lonely, sad…_  all of them would be an insult against him.

“If you wanted something to draw with, you could’ve asked,” He said gently, “Anything you need, you can ask me, dear. You know that, right?”

You looked away guiltily and forced yourself to nod. It wasn’t true. What you needed was to be rid of him but he’d never give you that. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, pulling you to lean closer as he kissed your lips. His other hand was on your thigh, it slid down until it met the hem of your skirt and began to push it up your leg. His palm grazed along your thigh, fingers tugging at your garter as if tempted to rip it off.

“Mmm,” He pulled away, tugging your skirt back down. He stood and breathed deeply as if warding off some dark force. “So,” He offered his hand and you took it, standing up warily. “What’s for dinner? It smells amazing.”


	8. Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader tries to avoid her punishment.
> 
> Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+. [spanking]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is some angry ass Steve over here. He’s gonna get real freaky as we go one but it’s just a little at a time, you know? He’s a finely aged wine of madness.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the comments. <3

Dinner was pretty good. Even though your appetite was still stunted, you ate almost half your plate. You were even more on edge because of what Steve would eventually discover. You had smoothly ushered him past the shrouded window and he sat at the table, watching as you returned with filled plates, glasses, and cutlery. The meal passed rather quickly and you unveiled the caramel pudding cake you had meticulously cooked from memory. Your mother’s recipe. Maybe it was enough to keep him distracted for the night.

“Mmm,” He finished his square of cake, streaks of pudding lined the plate from his eager scraping. “Very good, dear. I’ve never had anything so scrumptious.” His eyes were hooded as he looked over at you, placing his hand palm up on the table in invitation. “Not yet, anyway.”

You caught his suggestion but merely breathed it away. You placed your hand in his, trying to keep your nerves from causing it to quake. His thumb ran across the back of your hand and he admired how big his was below yours. The difference made your eyes round. He was so strong. He was constantly reminding you of that.

“You should eat more, dear,” He said softly, “You make all this food and barely touch it. I can’t have you getting skinny.”

“I...had a big lunch,” You lied.

“Despite working at a restaurant, I barely got a chance for a coffee,” He bemoaned, shifting closer in his chair, “But I can’t complain. It pays for all of this.” He looked around, “For you, dear.” Your eyes flicked down and you swallowed back your protests. You had done just fine paying for yourself. You didn’t need to be kept like some caged bird. You fluttered your lashes and looked back up at him. He smiled, his chest rising and falling as if gathering courage. “And a little something else…”

He released your hand and reached into his jacket pocket. He hesitated before revealing his secret, the velvet ring box almost hidden by his fingers. He slid smoothly from his chair and you watched in shock as he knelt before you. He cleared his throat and you gripped your knees, trying not to faint. _What was he doing?_  This man was truly crazy. You wanted to stand and flee but you remembered the window. Appease him and your punishment would not be so bad.

“Y/N, honey,” He took your hand again. You clenched your jaw, mortified at the scene before you. “I wish I could make this more special. I was trying to wait but...I got the ring today and seeing you like this,” He looked to your dress, “And everything’s so perfect, I just--I have to. I know that you’re the one for me.” He let go of you and opened the ring box, revealing a round pink diamond framed with smaller white ones on a white gold band.  _Holy shit!_  “Marry me?”

_What other answer could you give him?_ Even if you hadn’t totally fucked yourself, you wouldn’t really be able to deny him. You had nowhere to go and he didn’t seem the type to handle rejection well. You touched your chest, your breath caught there as you tried to force it out. You reached for your glass of water and gulped deeply, Steve’s face was painted with impatience. He looked nervous even.

“Uh,” Your lip shook and you bit it to keep it still before finding your voice, “Y-y-yes.”

The acceptance hung in the air before you and you wished you could snatch it back. Steve took your finger and pushed the ring onto it smoothly. It fit perfectly. He held up your hand and marveled at the jewels as they sparkled in the light. Your eyes burned.  _Don’t cry, bitch._

“I love you,” He kissed your hand before rising halfway, stooping to kiss you as he did.

He held your jaw between his hands and pressed his lips to yours. You surrendered as he shoved his tongue in your mouth and placidly accepted his delusional affection. He parted reluctantly, his blue eyes stuck to you as if you were carved from diamond yourself.

“I have to wait.” He reminded himself in a whisper and rose, backing away repentantly. “Dear,” He spoke over his shoulder as he turned his back to you, arms crossed as if fighting himself, “Why don’t you clean up? I have a bit of work to do and I’ll...meet you in the bedroom.”

“O-okay,” Your voice crackled in the air. You stood and gathered the plates as he slowly approached the far door. He glanced back at you as he unlocked the handle, one last smile before he disappeared beyond. You stared at the door as it closed, shakily raising your hand to examine the ring.  _Fuck._

\---

It didn’t take you long to tidy up. You wrapped up the leftovers and cleaned the dishes before wiping down the counters. As you replaced your ring on your finger you grumbled. You wanted to toss it down the sink but you suspected he wouldn’t believe it was an accident. You waited in the dining room for a while, hoping he’d return soon so you could get him into the bedroom before he noticed the window. You were much more willing to contend with him lovesick than agitated.

_Nothing._  A whole hour and he still hadn’t returned.

You relented and hoped he wouldn’t have the urge to pull back the curtains on his way in. You went into the bedroom and started your nightly ritual. Maybe if you fell asleep before he got to you... _who were you kidding?_  You didn’t really sleep these days. The nighty you chose was of the shorter among the bunch; a pale cream colour which clung to your curves. Distract him, don’t entice him. You were already wary of his self-control.

You burshed your hair out at the vanity and tried to smile. You still couldn’t manage more than a strained grimace. You glided under the blankets and took the magazine from your night table. You tried to focus on the words of the article about organizing one’s closet by season but your nerves were wild. And then you heard him. 

The distant click of the dining room door, footsteps passing through the kitchen, you looked up as he was about to come into view of the bedroom door but he stopped. You heard the heels of his leather shoes as he neared the window, the telling metallic whine of the curtain on its rod. The top of the magazine shook. You threw it on the night table and curled up under the covers.

You heard the heavy sigh, almost a growl. Determined footsteps stopped just outside the bedroom. “Honey,” He called to you but you didn’t move. If you thought you asleep, maybe he’d let you be. A night would let his temper cool. He let out a deep breath. “I know you’re awake. Get up before I tear the blanket off of you.”  _Yep, he was most certainly angry._

Slowly, you pushed back the corner of the blankets. Your eyes met his as you sat up and turned your legs over the edge of the bed. His gaze fell to your body and the sleek nightgown, never looking away. You brought your hands together and reluctantly approached him, audibly gulping as you got closer. He grabbed your arm and pulled you through the doorway. In the kitchen, the broken screen awaited you and you hung your head.

“So…” His voice was dangerous. “What happened here?”

“I..I--” Your teeth were chattering in fear. “It was an accident.”

He chuckled. “Quite an accident. A lot of force behind it.” He let you go, his fingerprints burned on your skin. “Why would you do this?”

 You shook your head. No answer would come. It was all trapped inside of you. You felt as if you would suffocate. You touched the ring on your finger, tugging it to the knuckle but he stopped you.

 “Keep it on.” He ordered, “I love you, but you can’t act this way. Especially if you are to be my wife.” _I don’t want to be your wife,_  you thought but remained silent. Your legs buckled slightly and you swayed. “Why, dear?” He stood before you, leaning down to look you in the eye, “Don’t you love me?” 

You searched his face. Beneath his anger, hurt broke through at your lack of an answer. It was too late to say yes now. Your hesitation was deadly. 

“I know you love me,” He swore, “I know it, but you must learn to share with me, dear. If our marriage is to work.” He stood straight, hands on his hips, “Put your hands on the counter.” He commanded and you flinched at the stone set in his tone. “Now!” He almost yelled, “Hands on the counter!” You moved to obey, placing your palms flat on the tile, “Stay.”

You looked over your shoulder as he retreated to the dining room once more. The door beyond opened and it was only a minute before he returned. Your eyes widened at the leather paddle in his hand, “Steve, please, don’t--”

“Quiet. Eyes forward,” He ordered, slapping the leather across his hand with a loud clap. “I didn’t want to do this. You understand?” He neared, his warmth looming behind you as the cold leather touched the back of your thigh. His hand went to your hip, inching your feet back so that you were at a slight angle, still clung to the counter. You were trembling uncontrollably. “ _You’re_  making me do this.”

He slid his fingers down and pulled up the skirt of your nightgown. He tugged down your panties sharply. You tried to move away and he smacked the paddle beside you on the counter. You froze as your panties dropped down your legs and he held the nighty just above your bare ass. You could hear his shaky breath. He shoved the paddle in the tight space between your thigh, pressing along your pussy before rescinding it.

“Please, don’t do this.” You begged.

“You’re lucky this is all you get,” He growled, positioning the paddle flat across your ass. He pulled back and you had no time to brace yourself for the first strike. You yiped and brought your hands back to grip the lip of the counter. “Palms flat,” He barked, “I told you. The more you disobey, the more you get. So don’t move, dear.” The last word was spoken so viciously it made your heart clench. You put your hands flat again. “I only do this,” He brought the leather down again, “Because I love you.”

He continued to spank you, pausing between each slap. Your body was buzzing after five and at ten you were sure you would collapse. Your cries had only gotten louder. Your ass stung but your faced burned hotter as the warmth was not just from the lashing. You could feel the arousal spreading along your thighs. This shouldn’t be exciting; it was humiliating.

He lowered the paddle and dripped it on the counter beside you. He pressed himself to your back, his rough hands against your ass as he caressed the tender flesh. 

“You love me.” He whispered in your ear. He pushed closer, his erection against you now. “You love me, don’t you?”

You didn’t dare to move. You closed your eyes and shuddered. He could do anything he wanted at that very moment. It was terrifying. “Yes…” The wisp slipped from your tongue. “I..love you.”

“I know,” He nuzzled your neck as his arms wrapped around you, “I’m done now, dear. Let’s not remember this night like this.” His hands ran along your arms, stopping just above your elbows and pulled you flush against him. He ground his pelvis into you and groaned. “You are tempting me, my dear.” He purred, he pushed so that your hips were crushed painfully against the counter. “We must wait.” He continued to rub himself against your ass, the thin fabric of his pants barely restraining his erection. “Until our wedding night.” Your eye popped open at his words.  _Wedding night?_  He really believed all this bullshit.

He grabbed your wrists and drew them together. He held them against the cupboard above your head. He didn’t stop grinding against you, your sensitive ass raw against his crotch. His breath picked up as he carried on, simulating sex as you stood helpless between him and the counter. You swore as you felt yourself growing wetter, his erection rubbing along your ass.

He let out a low moan and his rhythm died as he pressed against you firmly. His body twitched and he hung his head over your shoulder, his breath slowing. He released your wrists and caught your left hand. He toyed with the ring on your finger; admiring the light as it refracted off it.

“I forgive you.” He bent, leaning to kiss your cheek. He finally parted from you, keeping hold of your hand as he led you to the bedroom. “I’m going to shower,” He said as he let go of you. You could see the wet spot on the front of his pants but you couldn’t say if it had been him or you, or both. You looked away. “Go on and lay down.” He brought his hand up under your chin and tilted your head up as he bent to kiss you, “I won’t be long.”


	9. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve continues to toy with the reader.
> 
> this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+ (masturbation)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the least chapter I have ready to go but I will do my very best to get another done by next Wednesday as usual. I really love this series but it is intense and I wanna do it a certain way so it takes a little more. That being said, I love everyone reading along!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the replies/reblogs/tags/asks. <3

That night was spent in agony. Steve slept soundly beside you, his arm wrapped around you as ever, but you couldn’t stop squirming. He had left a need in you. It may not have been him you wanted but you couldn’t quell the desire nestled between your legs. Every time your thighs rubbed together you had to hold your breath. You weren’t sure if he had done it on purpose but it annoyed you all the same. He had kept you locked up here for a whole week and you were going crazy from it.

_How could you ever be incensed by the touch of a man who had paddled you?_ Not only that, he had dry-humped you like some teenage virgin. You thought you had left that nonsense behind in high school. When you did at last doze off, you dreamed of the scene in the kitchen. Trapped against the counter but this time, Steve was inside of you. Your thighs shook and your walls clenched around him longing for more. Then you woke up.

Something moved along your thigh. Steve’s fingers danced around the hem of your nighty, slipping beneath it and glossing over the thin satin of your panties. He caressed your stomach, picking at the elastic waist and slid his fingers under it. You went stiff against him, his thick arm holding you in place as his erection once more poked you ass. You reached down to stop him, your hand merely resting on his as he continued his motion downward.

His finger pressed between your folds, finding your hooded bud. He held his finger down, inflaming your nerves and your pelvis bucked unwillingly. You scratched at the back of his hand, “Please,” You begged, unsure if it was for him to stop or continue. 

He withdrew his hand, only to quickly catch yours and start guiding it with his own. He lined his large fingers up with yours, once more searching out your clit. You trembled as he made you rub yourself, the circles spinning your wits on end. Then two fingers, firmly against your bud, your body wracked as your breath picked up. Despite your efforts to resist, the flames were growing high, sparking along your thighs and stomach. You arched your back without thinking, his cock only withheld by his thin pajamas. He forced you to pluck at the strings, pulling, pulling, pulling tighter. Your moans wisped out of you as you tried to steady your heart. 

You grunted as your climax blossomed suddenly, rippling across your flesh as goosebumps broke out over your skin and electricity coursed through your veins. You bit the pillow to keep from crying out and Steve worked your fingers until you went limp.

“Good morning,” He whispered, leaning over you. 

He pulled your hand from your panties, holding up you glistening fingers in the artificial light from the window. He moved your hand to his lips and licked them with a hum. You wanted to recoil but waited until he released you, not wanting a repeat of the night before. As it was, you were ashamed of what he had just done.  _What you had done._

“Morning,” You said quietly, drawing up your legs as if to hide from him. You kept your back to him and tucked your hand under your side. Your thighs were slick with your cum. He kissed the top of you head before rolling to his side of the bed, his weight lifting from the mattress. 

“I’m gonna shower,” He said sweetly, “You wanna get the coffee on?” 

You mumbled your ascent but didn’t move. You watched him as he came around your side and neared the bathroom door, his hand reaching into his pajamas as he stroked his unyielding erection. You could see the shape of him through the stripe pants; he looked even bigger than he felt. You covered your face and the sound of the faucet came soon after.

It took you a moment to break free of your mortification. Sure it was nice to release the tension but the method had been less than ideal.  _Why had he done that? Why were you even still asking that question?_ There was no reason for anything he did. You didn’t know why he had first bothered you that night in his restaurant or why he had continued to pursue you afterward. You didn’t know why he had abducted you and brought you to this place. You only knew that he was undoubtedly insane.

When you stood, you tried to ignore the dampness of your panties. You wrapped your robe around yourself and entered the kitchen. You went about the dull practice of readying the morning brew and stared at the cracked screen as it peeked out between the curtains. 

You leaned on the counter and felt something jab your back. You looked over and grabbed the leather paddle from where Steve had left it. You spun it in your hand as you considered it; too light to use as a weapon. It’d only anger him. Once more, a large hand wrapped around yours and you jumped as Steve came up before you. He easily took the paddle from you and waved it in the air. 

“I’ll put this away,” He lowered it, turning it flat against your thigh, “Unless you don’t want me to?” You crossed your arms and sidestepped him. You pulled open the cupboard and took out two mugs. “Sorry, that was bad joke,” He said.

You stayed silent and poured the coffee. You handed him a cup and returned to the counter, content to drink yours right there.

“Dear,” He came up closer, his hand on the small of your back, “Is there anything I can bring you tonight? A book? Maybe…a record? There’s a player in the den.”

“There’s a den?” You still didn’t look at him but the prospect of another room was a speck of excitement in your monotonous existence.

“There is,” He confirmed, “But if I unlock it, you have to behave. Understood?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” You let go of the handle of your mug and turned to him, “Please. I’ve been so…” Your breath caught in your throat as you feared finishing the sentence and angering him.

“I know it’s boring in here, for now, at least. But you’re still learning,” He touched your shoulder, “You generation…Well, you’ve forgotten a lot of things. I’m just trying to give you the skills society took from you.”

Your eyes narrowed but you said nothing. You really wanted to listen to some music. Or read anything but lifestyle articles. It felt as if it had been years since you had heard a melody. You recalled the rich notes blaring in your ears when he had taken you. You wondered what he had done with your headphones.

“I swear, I’ll be good,” You pleaded, “Please?”

You looked up at him hopefully and he smiled. He bent down to kiss you, drawing you to him as he swayed against you. “I can’t say no to you,” He said, brushing his fingers through your hair as he held your head to his chest. “After breakfast, I’ll show you the den, okay?”

-

As promised, Steve unlocked the den after breakfast. He led you through the small hall parallel to the dining room. It was a large room. A fireplace along the far wall hooded by a painted mantle with a line of ornaments, including a few empty picture frames. An ornate rug was spread across the centre of the room beneath a cherry red couch; book-ended by a pair of walnut end tables. A matching coffee table with curved legs stood before the sofa right before the hearth. Two arm chairs finished the set; their fabric striped with white and red. 

There was a bookshelf along one wall and in the next corner, a record player atop a tall table. Beneath were a collection of records on the single shelf. Two more windows, or rather screens, shone, adding to the light of the porcelain lamps. The aesthetic matched that of the rest of the house; you hadn’t expected anything less.

Steve watched you as you considered the room. It was a little more freedom; not true freedom but as much as you could hope for. You couldn’t help the slight curve of your mouth. There were books in here. Not just magazines of fashion tutorials and cleaning secrets. Actual books.  _And the record player!_ It was literal music to your ears; or would be. You stepped forward, forgetting about your unwanted escort, but he caught your hand before you could get far.

“Dear,” He drew you back to him, “I’m trusting you today. Keep the den in order. Don’t let yourself get carried away. I still expect your chores to be done.”

Your face immediately fell. “Yes, sweetheart,” You droned.

“I think it’s mostly just Sinatra, some Cab Calloway,” He turned you and led you towards the record player. “Maybe some Judy Garland…” He released you and knelt by the table, “Do you know how to work it?”

“I do,” You voice was lined with a hint of excitement. You looked to him as he stared at you expectantly. “Thank you.”

He smiled and stood. His eyes wandered to your body. He stepped closer and you found yourself against the wall. He touched your arm, tracing his hand along your shoulder and across your collarbone. He leaned down to inhale the scent of your hair.

“You were naughty this morning,” He breathed, “Touching yourself like that.” You froze and closed your eyes in shame. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I’ve done it too.” He confessed, his nose brushing against your temple as he spoke in half-whisper. “I think of you when I’m in the shower.”

“Steve,” You squeaked as he pressed himself against you and your eyes snapped open. He pulled back to gaze down at you, his hand rested on your neck, palm pressed to the side of your throat.

“If you wanted me to, I’d touch you. I’d do anything you asked me to. Well, within reason.” His other hand was at your throat, too. You thought he was going to choke you but then his fingers began to dance down your chest, hands cupped your breasts through the thin fabric of your nightie. “There are things we cannot do until we are wed…I want you to choose a date today. That is my one request,” He pinched your nipple between his fingers and you whined.

He released you suddenly and turned his back to you. You were left against the wall, bracing it for stability.

“Here,” He crossed to the wall just beside the door and took down the calendar hanging there. He found a pen in the drawer of an end table and came back to you. “Pick a date,” He circled a whole row, “Within this window and we’ll start planning right away.” He tucked the pen in his pocket. “The sooner, the better.”

You took the calendar from him and he checked his watch with a sigh. “I’m afraid I have to leave you, dear,” He bent to kiss you, his hand holding your chin as he crushed you against the wall, the calendar trapped between you. “I promise, when we marry, I won’t work for two weeks. Maybe three…our honeymoon is going to last forever.” He pecked your lips one last time before detaching from you, “I love you, dear.” He brushed the hair away from your face, “Be good.”

He stared at you until you echoed him; ‘I love you’. Content enough, he smiled and left you as you were. The door stayed open and you heard him leave through that at the end of the hallway. You looked down cautiously and examined the calendar. He had circled the week after this. If he had his way, you would be married within a few weeks. You dropped the bundle of paper and slid down the wall. So much for freedom.


	10. Time Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader prepares herself for the wedding.
> 
> Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Hope you enjoy this chapter. I don’t have too much to say but the next chapter will be super interesting I think. For now, I need to go to the doctor again and hopefully you have fun!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in comments. <3

Steve returned that evening as he did every night. A kiss on the cheek, an ‘I love you’, and his usual touchiness. You’d never grow used to it; only better able to tolerate it. You served him his dinner and sat next to him as ever. You chewed in silence. Your appetite was starting to return at least. Your day had been easier. The music helped you relax for the first time since you had been brought here. Or at least as close to as you could attain.

You cleared the table and washed the dishes. The menial tasks allowed you an excuse not to be near him. As you finished drying the plates, he appeared in the doorway. “My dear, have you chosen a date?” He asked fondly.

“Yes,” You lied. You hadn’t thought about it too hard. “The...Thursday.” It was the third last day within the allotted window.

“Very well,” He neared and placed a kiss on your forehead. “I have a surprise for you.”

You nodded and looked up at him. You forced a smile.

“It’s in the den.” He took your hand and pulled you with him as he turned back to the door. He guided you through the dining room and across the hall to the den. There was a paper bag on the coffee table. You glanced over at him and he preened. “Go on.” He released you and waved you ahead of him.

You crossed to the table with measured steps as he sat in one of the armchairs and watched. You reached inside and pulled out the first item. A sketchbook. You flipped through the blank pages and your cheek twitched.

“So you don’t have to doodle in your booklet anymore…” He commented.

You set it down beside the bag and dipped your hand in again. A tin of sketch pencils and an eraser. You placed those with the book. The last three pieces were records. These weren’t the same vintage hidden beneath the victrola. Hozier, The Lumineers, and Sia. They were all artists saved on your cell phone playlist. You stared down at them and your eyes stung. You missed the outside. Missed your old life.

“Thank you,” You whispered. You turned to hide you face. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. That would be worse than surrender.

“Why don’t you put one on?” He asked lightly.

You cleared your throat and sniffed. You slid the records back into the bag and held onto the first. You went to the record player and slipped the vinyl from its sleeve. You pulled the arm over and started the small motor. The smoky tones of Hozier filled the air and our heart clenched. You had been listening to this album when he had taken you. You could smell the grass, the dirt, the leaves with each note.

“Come, sit with me,” His voice shook your from your haze. You glanced over your shoulder as he stared at you. Your heels clunked, even on the carpet, as you neared him. He rubbed his thigh and reached out to you. You sat sideways on his lap as he guided your body. You swallowed the last of your grief. He wrapped his arm around your back and rested his head against your chest. “So, I suppose you should pick a dress next.”

-

It was Steve’s day off and you were not happy. You went through your usual routine but did not have his absence to look forward to. After breakfast, he placed a stack of bridal magazines before you and put a record on. You watched him with derision before taking one from the pile. You grew bored about halfway through and opened it to a random page. He was right beside you; his arm around you as he leaned back against the sofa.

You shrugged and handed him the magazine. “Here.”

“Oh?” He sat up slightly and took the magazine with his free hand. “Is this the one you want?”

You wanted to shrug but you just nodded. You hadn’t even looked at it. You didn’t really care what you married him in. If it was up to you, there wouldn’t be a wedding. The more he talked about it, the deeper the pit in your stomach. The more it felt as if your life were ending. Being trapped in this antiquated prison was enough to assure you that there was little for you but cinched waists and kitten heels. But the ring around your finger sealed your fate; a promise stolen from you.

“I like it,” He ran his thumb along the glossy page, “Especially this.”

He traced the neckline and you finally glanced down at the silhouette. _Figured._  Even when you were trying to sabotage his plans, you had only fucked yourself. The off-the shoulder number was hip-hugging and low-cut. You wondered if you’d even be able to keep it in place without holding on for dear life.

“Wait…” An idea flickered in your head. A straw to grasp at. “Isn’t it bad luck for you to see my dress?”

“You know, I read that it’s just some medieval misconception.” He set the magazine aside, keeping it open to the dress you had chosen. “Back when they had arranged marriages.” He hugged you to him, his lips brushed your cheek as he spoke, “The bride’s father wouldn’t want the groom to see his daughter until the last minute so that he didn’t back out.” He pecked your cheek and you felt him smile, “I’m not going anywhere, dear.”

You nodded and touched his elbow gently. “Sweetheart, I should start lunch. I’m feeling a bit peckish.”

“Of course, dear,” He grabbed your chin and turned you to face him. He kissed you lingeringly before drawing away. “It makes me happy that you're eating again.”

You forced a smile and carefully detached yourself from him as you stood. You didn’t want to flee too quickly; he didn’t like that. He clung to your hand, swinging it in the air between you as he looked up at you. His eyes fell to the diamonds on your finger and he kissed the ring delicately. Finally, let go.

“I’ll be here, dear,” He sat back with a sigh. “Call me if you need anything.”

You nodded and spun on your heel. You figured you had twenty minutes before he would get bored and come bother you. Less if you considered the bulge at his crotch. He was always hard these days and it made it difficult to keep your eyes above his shoulders. He hadn’t done much more than rub himself against you at night and continue his shower time exertions. You were certain to tread carefully; you awoke before him and fled before he could trap you once more. He might have noticed but he had yet to say anything.

You retreated to the kitchen and pulled out bread and some fixings for sandwiches. You still weren’t sure what Steve liked but you hadn’t bothered to ask. He ate whatever you gave him, really. You closed the fridge and looked around the despairingly familiar room. It was odd that within your prison this had become a refuge. A brief respite from grasping hands and errant lips. This was to be your life; fighting to hide from him in plain sight.

You rinsed the tomato and set it on the cutting board. You watched the water circle the drain and gather there; a grind before it finally swirled down the pipes. You tilted your head and peered down the abyss. You turned the tap on again and the water washed away even slower. There must be a clog. You tilted your head as you thought, your fingers tapped on the counter top.

You pushed yourself away and grabbed the dish towel. You entered the den as you dried your hands. Steve was at the record player searching for an album among the bunch. You cleared your throat as you stopped just inside the door. 

“Um, sweetheart?” He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “I need...help.”

His eyes brightened and he stood. You made a point of not asking for much but when you did, it spurred him. “What is it, dear?” He crossed to you and you fought to keep from shying away from him.

“There’s a clog,” You explained, “The sink is all backed up.”

“Hmm, oh,” He seemed slightly disappointed, “No worries, I can fix it. Why don’t you finish lunch and I’ll go grab my tools.”

“Yes, sweetheart,” You bowed your head and he leaned in to kiss your hairline. He led you back through the door as he followed you into the hallway. He nudged you back towards the kitchen before he headed to the locked door at the other end. He glanced over his shoulder and you quickly looked away, scurrying into the dining room as you heard the keys tinkle.

You returned to the kitchen and began to slice the tomato diligently. You buttered the bread, spread the mayo, layered meat, cheese, tomato, and lettuce as Steve entered with an odd clank. You turned as he carried a large red toolbox and set it down beside the counter.

“Should be easy enough,” He opened the cupboard and got to his knees, “I’ve dealt with worse than a clogged pipe.”

He popped open the toolbox and grabbed a wrench. You watched him as he positioned himself in front of the open doors and reclined so that he looked up at the underside of the sink. You could hear him moving around, the metal biting on metal. You stared at the open toolbox just beside his bent legs. You leaned on the open cupboard and peeked over at him as he detached the curve of metal from the rest.

You blinked, waiting for him to look over at you. He was entirely focused on his work. You glanced back at the toolbox and stood straight. Slowly you bent your knees, balancing on your heels perilously as you reached out to the open box. Just a little further. Your fingers closed around the handle of a screwdriver and you carefully lifted it from the bunch. Your heart clutched as you jostled another but it was covered by the noise of Steve’s wrench.

You pulled back your skirt and tucked the tool into your garter, making sure it was secure. You stood and straightened your dress. “Sweetheart, should I set your lunch out on the table for you?” You called to him as you took the two plates in hand.

“Of course. I’ll finish this up and eat when I’m done.” He replied. His voice was distracted as metal clinked against metal.

You were trembling as you entered the dining room and set down the plates. You glanced through the door to the kitchen as you slipped off your heels. You placed your stockinged feet flat on the floor and backed into the hall. You held your breath as you listened for any movement but that of the wrench. 

You tiptoed up to the laundry room and pushed inside. You crossed to the washing machine and slipped the screwdriver from your garter. You wrapped it in a dirty washcloth from the basket waiting to be washed and tucked it behind the machine.

You gulped as your heart hammered and you edged away from your hiding place. You returned to the dining room to find it still empty and sat. You stared down at your sandwich with a smile. You weren’t sure what you were going to do but it sparked the last ember of hope inside.


	11. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader grows desperate.
> 
> Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so here’s the next part. I feel like everything’s starting to ramp up and I’m working on the next part already. Hopefully I can get it done for next week as usual but we’ll see. With that being said, I can’t wait for you all to read and of course, enjoy this wild ride with me!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the rcomments. <3

Steve left for work as usual and you stared at the door as it closed behind him. You waited ten minutes before moving. You felt like he could hear you sneaking around even though he was gone.  _Right?_ He was truly gone. You'd hate to be caught in the act. The thought terrified you. You had one shot at this and if you failed, you knew there'd not be another chance. 

You went to the laundry room and took out the screwdriver. You examined its end and inhaled. You weren't even sure if this would work. You had worn your lowest heels and a dress with short sleeves; the loosest among the bunch; buttons up the front and a thin belt at its waist. If you could get free, you hoped you’d not look like a mad lady plucked out of wartime. And you’d have to be able to run if the worst occurred.

You returned to the kitchen and pulled back the curtains of the broken screen. You braced yourself and shakily raised the screwdriver. This was it. Once you started, you couldn’t stop. You had to keep going no matter what. Should Steve catch you, you didn’t even want to imagine what he would do. You lined up the flat head with the edge of the screen and pushed between it and the wooden frame. It warped the LED as you pressed deep, running the screwdriver the length of the artificial window.

You cranked the handle and the screen curved until it finally popped out, the cracks along its surface spread. You caught it before it could land on you and lowered it along the wall to the floor. You looked up to the concrete hidden behind it and swore.  _Well, that was a waste._ You placed your palm flat where the window had been. You must be underground.

You kicked the screen and it folded in half as it crumpled to the floor. You stomped it in frustration and gripped the screwdriver. You’d just have to take the obvious way out. You huffed and marched into the dining room and through the hallway which connected it to the den. You turned to the door at the end of the hall; the same one Steve left through everyday. You froze and glanced at the tool in your hand.  _Could you break the lock that easily?_

You marched to it and your heart pounded in your ears. You slid the flathead in the small crease between door and frame. You pulled it down until you met the bolt, wiggling between the wood as you tried to carve out enough to free the lock. Twenty, maybe thirty, minutes and the door hadn’t budged. Slivers shaved off to pile at your feet. You grunted in frustration and pulled the slightly curved screwdriver out.  _God dammit!_

You turned the tool in your hand and slammed it against the handle in exasperation. The reverberation jolted your arm painfully and you hissed. You held your wrist and looked at the knob. You blinked and reached out to touch it. It shifted just slightly. You gulped and braced the screwdriver in both hands and raised your arms above your head. You slammed down into the handle again and you heard a snap. You did it again and again until it fell loose and hung perilously from the door.

Your hands were shaking, bruises forming on the sides from the force of your struggle. You tucked the screwdriver into your belt and pulled the knob free from the hole. You tossed it aside as you breathed heavily and the door slowly opened. You could have laughed in glee but you weren’t free yet.

On the other side of the door, a tall flight of stairs led upward. You climbed, two at a time, almost slipping in your kitten heels. You drew yourself up by the railing and stopped before the door at the top of the steps. You peered behind you down the tunnel and gripped the long handle along the metal barrier. You took the screwdriver from your waist as your thumb pushed down on the lever. To your surprise, it suppressed all the way. The door opened without a dozen whacks from your flathead and you nearly fell out the other side.

You stepped down onto the tarmac and nearly stumbled as you let go of the door. The metal clanged shut behind you and you turned to look at it. There was only a keyhole in its face and it sat inconspicuously in the wall of a parking garage. All around you were vehicles and spray paint outlines. Your prison was hidden just beneath the urban jungle and you would’ve never known it.

You dropped the screwdriver as you spun back to the airy lot, the sounds of traffic leaked in through the open pillars. You started to walk away from the door, weaving between cars as you found the ramp that led out onto the street. You broke into a run as you smelled the city air and a hint of the sky peeked back at you between buildings.  _New York!_ You never thought you would miss it so much.

You jogged down the street in your heels, your ankles almost twisting with each step as you passed by unfazed pedestrians. In this city, it was never unusual to see one racing down the sidewalk; even more usual for them to look entirely crazy. You stopped at the first corner as you realized where you were. You turned back and pressed yourself to the wall.

Had you continued on, you would’ve passed right by the window of Spice. The same restaurant in which you had first met Steve. You were certain he was there right now. You glanced around and dashed across the street. You barreled down onto the next as your heels clacked against the pavement. Your lungs burned and your heart leapt as you spotted the familiar uniform of the city blues. An officer stood just outside a Starbucks, sipping on a freshly brewed coffee.

“Officer!” You called out frantically as you neared him, “Officer, please.”

He turned to you in surprise, his free hand slipped to his hip. “Ma’am, slow down.” He warned and you skidded to a stop just before you collided with him. “Just right there. Stay as you are.” He crossed to his cruiser and set his cup on the roof as his other hand rested on his belt. “You got I.D.?”

“I.D.?” You echoed in confusion. “I need help.”

“Mmhmm,” He eyed you suspiciously. You realized you must’ve looked like any other lunatic on the street harassing the police and other New Yorkers. “I.D.”

“I don’t...have it,” You felt the air rush from you, “But I...I need to file a report. You need to help me, please. He’s going to come looking for me.”

“Who?” The officer asked.

“I--I…” You glanced around at the few onlookers who were gathering to watch your frantic ramblings.

“Ma’am, I think it’s best you carry on before I have to arrest you for disturbing the peace.” He threatened and his hand moved to the cuffs just beside his holster. “Do you understand me?”

“Arrest me?” You repeated and chewed your lip. Even if the officer wasn’t going to protect you, a jail cell would be a shield in itself.  _How could Steve ever get to you if you were guarded by New York’s best?_  “Do it!” You raised your voice, “Officer, please! You don’t understand.” You tried to sound just a little more nutty “You have to save me from him. He locked me up and--”

“This is your final warning, ma’am, please go,” The officer bristled.

“No, I won’t. I need your help,” You stepped closer and he reacted in an instant.

He freed his cuffs from his waist and quickly spun you against his car. You looked up at those who had stopped to watch the scene and lowered your chin. You hid a smile as your wrists were bound and the officer grumbled under his breath. “This fucking city.”

He opened his back door and shoved you inside. You eagerly pulled your feet into the car and sat back with a sigh as he slammed the door closed. He grabbed his cup from atop the cruiser and got in the driver seat. “I just wanted a goddamn coffee,” He growled as he started his engine, “No such thing as peace around here, is there?” He looked at you in the rear view mirror, “What loony bin did you find your way out of anyway?”

-

At the station, the process took more than two hours; fingerprints, mug shot, paperwork. You were finally shuffled into a cell. It was more commonly known as the drunk tank. Those being held until they sobered up lined the bench along the wall while others just sprawled across the floor. Even if you were surrounded by smelly inebriates, it was better than your former prison.

You stood at the bars as police milled around like ants. As time ticked by, you grew more anxious.  Steve would come home to an empty house and two broken doors. He'd be quick to go looking, you had no doubt of that. If he found you here, you'd be safe behind bars for the time being but what about when you were released? You didn't think he'd give up so easily. Surely he'd be waiting for you.

"Officer," You called as another police passed by. You called several times before any responded, too encumbered in more serious criminals than lunatics off the street. "Please, I need to report a crime."

A female officer paused and turned impatiently to the cell. "What? Are the voices threatening you?"

"No, no, there's been a misunderstanding. Please, I was only trying to escape, I mean…" You hung your head as you realized how crazy you sounded. "I have a right to file a report, don't I?"

She stared at you and rolled her shoulders. "If I take you to file a report, will you stop?"

"Yes, yes," You clung to the bars.

"And you understand a report is just a piece of paper, right?" She approached the cell. "There's only so much we can do after the fact."

"I'm not crazy," You said lowly and looked into her eyes, "I swear. I know I seem it but I'm not."

She considered you a second and took the keys from her waist. "Twenty minutes in a room. That's all you'll get."

"Thank you," You stood back as she opened the door and ushered you out.

She cuffed you before walking you down the hall and showed you into a thickly walled room, a wide window looked into the hallway. "Let me grab some forms and I'll be back. Don't try anything."

You nodded and eagerly sat, hands folded atop the table. If you could convince them, they could help. Even Steve Rogers wasn't above the law. Surely your absence for the last week and a half would raise suspicion. And the little bunker they would find under the parking garage was proof enough. It wasn't too far either. You might just beat Steve there if they acted quickly.

The officer returned and grumbled as she sat across from you. Her short blonde hair had dark roots and traces of silver. Her square jaw gave her an inherent look of disapproval as she opened a file and turned her attention to you. She tapped her round fingernails on the table and leaned back.

“What’s with the clothes?” She asked pointedly.

“The clothes?” You looked down at the dated dress and shook your head. “They’re clothes. I mean...it’s much more than just clothes.”

“Mmmhmm,” She slid forward in her seat and her eyes grazed over the slanted writing before her. “Officer Gowon reports that you approached him in an ‘aggressive manner’ on the street. You could not present identification and you claimed that you needed help and referred to a man ‘coming for you’.”

“He took it. When he took me. All my stuff; my phone, my wallet, my clothes.” You stopped yourself and placed your hands flat on the table. “Please, didn’t you look up my name? I’ve been gone for almost ten days...maybe more. I’m not sure.”

“Ma’am, I need you to answer honestly,” She pushed aside the report at the top of the pile. “Have you ever sought professional help for your mental health?”

“I…” You frowned and clasped your hands together, the cuffs jingled noisily. “I have. Ten years ago for depression. I had just started university and was struggling with the workload...I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“And you’ve not experienced any relapse in the time since?” She asked sternly.

“I go to counseling but my mental health is under control,” You swallowed. Her eyes, her tone, her sneer, they were filled with accusation. “Look, you have to believe me. Ten days ago I went for a jog and I never came home. Steve Rogers kidnapped me and held me in a bunker under some garage. I can show you where it is. Please, just let me show you.”

“Steve Rogers?” Her dark brows shot up and she grinned, “Okay, Ma’am.”

“I swear, it was him. Give me a map and I can mark where he kept me.” You urged desperately. “You’ll see. Just let me show you.”

“Alright, I think we’re done,” She closed the file with a slap and stood. “You will stay here while I look into your ‘story’.”

You sighed as she walked around the table. You could tell she didn’t believe you. If you were lucky, they would just let you go and issue a fine for your public misbehaviour. If they weren’t going to help you, you’d just have to help yourself. Disappear, if you could.

You sat in the room for about thirty minutes. Your impatience grew along with your anxiety.  _Why couldn’t they just release you on the promise of a court date?_ Tandi had been arrested once for drunkenly arguing with an officer and was released the moment she sobered up. You had merely asked for salvation and received a life sentence.

You rocked in your chair nervously, shadows moved through the broad window behind you. You turned and peered through the glass. The blonde officer and the one who had arrested you stood in a triangle with another man. His broad back and golden hair assured you of his identity. You didn’t need Steve Rogers to turn around to recognize him, but he did. 

He looked through the window as Officer Gowon pointed through it. His blue eyes darkened as they met yours and your heart dropped. His lips were drawn in a straight line as his jaw squared and he glanced at the female officer as she spoke. His facade resumed as he smiled and nodded; a wave of his hand in feigned indifference.

Gowon approached the door and your heart clutched. Steve followed him and the second officer was not far behind. The handle clicked and slowly twisted. Time seemed to warp as you watched the door swing inward and all three entered. You stood and braced yourself on the table.

“No,” You whispered weakly as your legs wobbled beneath you.

“Honey, it’s okay,” Steve’s voice chilled you as much as his words. “I’m here now.”


	12. Amor condusse noi ad una morte.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader finds herself back where she started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter gets a bit dark; a bit intense, but we get a little peek into Steve’s delusions and more of his fragile temperament. I hope you all enjoy this. And please, brace yourself for this chapter. I don’t wanna spoil it but it’s creeping up on the dark.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the comments. <3

Cuffed. Caged. Caught by Steve Rogers. The room seemed to shrink as he he entered. You looked to the officers on either side of him.  _Why were you the one in custody? Interrogated?_  Your heart raced as you realized your dire mistake. You should have known.  _Had trusting the man before you not taught you anything?_  There was nothing, no one in this world you could depend on.

"I apologize for my fiance's behaviour." He turned and shook Gowon's hand, then the other officer's. Her badge read Dawson. You scowled and pressed yourself against the table. "With your permission, I'd like a moment alone…" He lowered his voice but you could hear him still. He wanted you to. "She's stressed. She just needs some comfort, you know?"

"Of course, Mr. Rogers," Dawson was more than happy to agree and Golon gave a sympathetic look. 

The former saviour of New York and defender of humanity still wore his mantle of charity. Why look at him; he loved a madwoman. Tore himself away from his work just to bail her out. You were speechless.  _What could you say? What was your word against his?_

You chewed the inside of your lip as the officers left you alone with your personal villain. Delivered you into the hands of the man you had sought refuge from. The door closed, a loud click sealed your fate. His smile slowly faded. His jaw squared and he rolled his shoulders. His cheek twitched and he stepped toward you. You flinched and he put on a show of softening his movements. You stared up at him defiantly as your teeth gnashed. You couldn't let him know how afraid you truly were.

"It's okay, honey, come on and sit." He turned you back to the metal chair and pushed you down by your shoulder. He took the chair across from you and pulled it around to sit next to you. He draped his arm over your shoulder. From the window, he would seem doting; protective even. "You know people are real worried about you."

He fumbled around in his jacket pocket. He pulled out a familiar item. Your phone still wore its holographic shell. He unlocked it and held it before you face. Your Facebook was open; your timeline active despite your forced disconnection. He slowly began to scroll through the well wishes. Talia, several friends you hadn't talked to since college, your mother even. Mixed in were a dozen congratulations until finally he paused at a photo you had never seen. A photo you had never taken and yet there you were, smiling happily beside Steve Rogers; a perfectly blissful couple. Below was a message written in your voice but not by you.

_‘To all my friends and family, I must apologize. For the last year I have been distant; standoffish. I could blame it on work or other everyday obligations but I think it better that I come clean._

_One year ago, I met Steve and the connection was instant. We fell in love entirely and were selfish as we dove head deep into each other. It's gone fast but we can't wait any longer to announce it. We're engaged!_

_To you all, I thank you for standing by me. It had been a very big secret to keep and I have found planning the whole affair very stressful. That being said, I will be stepping back from my work and online to focus on keeping myself healthy as Steve and I put this all together._

_We will announce the date soon and invitations will follow!’_

"What did you do?" You recoiled in disgust; disbelief. With your arms bound, you nearly fell right of his grasp. "You're insane!"

He visibly bristled. He blinked and raised the phone once more. He opened up your texts and thumbed through them. "You're mother sends her regards. She was rather upset that you didn't tell her sooner but I cleared all that up."

Your eyes widened as his veneer of calm barely withheld the anger beneath. "Do it," You challenged in a hiss. "I can tell you want to. You want to spank me again, don't you? Hmm? You can't control yourself can you." 

You sneered at him, waiting for him to snap. Hoping. If he bent you over and smacked your right here, surely the police would never let him take you. The tic in his jaw flared and his arm tightened around you. He leaned in so that his lips were right beside your ear.

"You're in big fucking trouble." His whisper made you shiver. He leaned back and reached up to touch your hair as he raised his voice. "It's okay, sweetheart. Let's just get you home and safe. We can push the wedding back."

He rubbed your back as he stood and crossed to the door. He knocked and Dawson reappeared. 

"I hope she didn't trouble you guys too much. I know you work hard out there. I'm real sorry, she's stressed… she's sick. If it's permissible, I'd like to just take her home. I don't think another trip to the hospital is necessary."

He was lying through his teeth and he was oh so good at it. You hung your head in defeat as you listened to his elaborate fabrication. He had imagined a whole life with you and even printed receipts. You were fucked. 

"Of course, Mr. Rogers. You've done this city an amazing service," Dawson preened, "We only wish you were still out there with us."

"When the time comes you just know. Can't be an Avenger  _and_ a husband." He said humbly, "Not a good one at least."

"You can take her." Dawson said softly. "Really, we understand. No harm, no foul."

You felt a tug at your wrists and the cuffs were freed with a twist of the key. Steve was once more at your side as he helped you to your feet. You shot him vilest look you could muster.

"Take care of yourself, dear," Her tone was laced with sickly honey. You kept your jaw set and ignored her as Steve ushered you past.

His arm went around your back as he marched you through the station. You felt as if every eye was watching you. Each person a witness to your betrayal. You were tense against him as you stepped out into the sunlight. If not for the situation, you would've basked in it. 

_How long had it been since you had felt natural warmth? Why had you not enjoyed it earlier? Why had you been such an idiot?_

He led you to a car in the enclosed garage attached to the station and opened the door. You drew away from him and he caught your wrist. "Get in." He growled. You twisted your wrist and he tightened his grip. "I won't hesitate to put you in the trunk. So get in. Now!"

"I hate you." You snarled. "I hate you." You brought your fist up and it bounced of the bottom of his jaw. "Let me go!" 

His winced just slightly and grabbed your other wrist. He raised them over your head and released them. He bent and scooped you up. He draped you over his shoulder. He held you with one arm and reached into his pocket, the doors and trunk clicked. He rounded the back of the car and opened the trunk. He dropped you inside, your head barely missing the metal. 

He snapped closed the lid and you beat against it desperately. You heard his footsteps and the door; you felt his strength as he slammed it shut. The engine kick-started and you clawed at the interior until your hands stilled in futility.

You dropped your head, squished into the tight box. You grunted in frustration and your eyes burned. This couldn't be happening. You had gotten out. You'd gone to the police. You had felt freedom on your lungs. All this and you were to be dragged back to where your started.

-

When the trunk opened, you kicked out only to have your foot caught. You were torn from the car as Steve seethed. His hot breath surrounded you as he forced you across the tarmac. You struggled, heels scraped on the pavement as you neared the knobless door. You tried to keep yourself from within as you kicked your legs out but missed the doorframe. He shoved you through and you barely caught yourself from falling down the stairs as he released you. 

As the door closed with a deafening clang, you were snatched off your feet. Steve had you over his shoulder once more. Your stomach leaned heavily against his shoulder as he descended. You reached for the railing, the walls, but your fingers slid over them helplessly. The door at the bottom was open still, the knob on the floor. He had not yet been home.

He carried you through the hall and into the dining room. He grumbled as he passed through the kitchen and saw the disjointed window. He entered the bedroom and slammed the door with only his foot. He dropped you onto the bed and you bounced so violently you bit your tongue. Before you could rise, he was on top of you. You batted at him with your hands but he seemed not to notice your struggles.

He grabbed the front of your dress and tore it open, the buttons flying across the room in all directions. “Get off!” You grunted as you tried to stop his hands. His eyes were dark; endless. He straddled you so that you couldn’t move, his breath hot and heavy as he pulled your dress down your arms. When it was at your waist, your hands were trapped in the fabric as his began to explore your bare stomach. “Steve! Stop!”

His hands settled on your breasts and he kneaded them roughly. He tweaked your nipples through the seamed brassiere and ground his pelvis against you. He groaned, a shiver rose through him as the bulge in his pants grew. You whimpered as helplessness weighed you down and lifted your head. You dropped it heavily with a sigh. His hands stilled just beneath your neck and he stared down at you with seething breaths.

“Stay!” He pointed at you, his finger almost touching your nose. His other hand pressed against your throat and threatened to squeeze. “Don’t move, honey.”

As he climbed off, you realized how terribly you were shaking. Your entire body trembled and you couldn’t have moved if you tried. You had never been so entirely terrified. The door opened and he wasn’t gone more than a minute. You looked up just as he returned and he held a large black chest. He set it down on the plush love seat and opened it. He pulled straps from within and your blood surged.

You sat up and untangled your hands from the dress. As he neared, you  rolled across the bed. You knew exactly what he meant to do. You didn’t make it to the door as he blocked you from it with his broad figure. He reached behind him and slammed it again. He walked towards you wordlessly until you were forced to retreat and the back of your knees hit the bed. You fell onto it once more and he grabbed your ankles.

He flipped you easily, your body twisting painfully as you tried to resist. He wrapped a strap around your left ankle and secured it to the bedpost. Next he tied your right, then your wrists. He reached under you and ripped open the rest of your dress. He bunch it up and let it fall to the floor as he stepped back, admiring your form spread-eagle and face down on the bed.

You turned your head as he returned to the chest and reached within once more. He revealed a leather whip and you cursed. He slapped it across his palm as he faced you. 

“I told you, there will be punishment for misbehaviour,” He growled. He rolled your panties down around your thighs as far as they would go. He rested the leather against your pale ass. “Now, you will take it and learn to be a good wife. And after, you can think on your lesson.”

He lifted the whip and it came down with a poisonous bite. You yelped and the tears rose instantaneously. He repeated the action, again and again. You couldn’t have kept count if you had tried. You sobbed into the bedspread as you gripped the straps that restrained you. He stopped as your ass and thighs were raw. You were certain there was blood too.

You heard the whip fall to the floor. You opened your eyes and watched as he unzipped his pants. He pulled out his cock and began to stroke. You closed your eyes, the sounds of his self-pleasure rising in groans. The bed slouched beneath him as he knelt on the mattress beside you, his cum spilled onto your ass and you turned your face to the bed.

His large hand rubbed his cum into your tortured flesh and he purred. He pulled your panties up over your damp skin and patted your ass. He untied you, your limbs falling limp against the bed. He moved your body for you. He dragged you across the bed and stood you up. You swayed as a sear went through your ass and legs. He supported you with one arm as he angled you around the room.

He grabbed the back of the sofa and pushed it aside so that it faced the bathroom door. He kicked the rug away with his foot and bent to lift the concealed hatch in the wooden floorboards. You began to panic as he guided you down the stairs ahead of him. A small room was hidden beneath with shadowy forms; a narrow bed, a sink, a small toilet. A cell worse than that at the station.

“Go, or I’ll let you fall,” He snapped. You looked at him in shock. “Go on, dear.” All his false affection, his delusional love, had gone.

You peered back down into the secret room and he let you go. You barely kept yourself from slipping down the stairs. You descended a step at a time and looked back up at him as you reached the bottom. He frowned and shook his head.

“You did this to yourself,” He said as he closed the hatch and all went black around you. 

The locked clicked and you heard his footsteps as he walked away. You held onto the steps and slowly sank to your knees. You screamed until it caught in your throat and hung your head. You wept until your head pounded and your chest knotted. 

_What had you done?_


	13. In a Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader is left in the dark.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4tDKF_uwRI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, our reader is in big shit and now she must suffer. And we must suffer with her. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I can’t wait for what’s still coming! 
> 
> I also want to thank everyone for following this series and their enthusiasm about it. It’s just amazing and I am so astounded that so many feel the same excitement I do for Wednesdays. I really just can’t believe it. You guys are wonderful and I owe you so much!
> 
> I looked forward to hearing from you in the comments. <3

The light stung your eyes. You had spent so long in darkness that when the bulb lit up and set ablaze the small room, you buried your head beneath the blanket. It had been only a day, maybe. If you were to guess by your hunger, it had been longer. You spent your first few hours on the floor in shock. When the pain in your ass and thighs became unbearable, you moved to the bed. You laid on your stomach and wept. Between your tears, there were spurts of sleep. Troubled and unkind.

It was another few hours before you heard the lock. The hatch opened and Steve’s shoes appeared on the top stair. He climbed down silently, a plastic tray in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He placed them on the floor beside your bed without speaking; without looking at you. You watched as he left; his feet heavy on the steps and the door shut with an echoing slam. 

You stared down at the microwaved meal. It looked wholly unappetizing but you were starving. You gulped back the glass of water and took the plastic fork and dug into the overdone pasta. You didn’t care that the noodles were chewy or that the sauce was acidic. Your stomach clutched and clamped in relief. You refilled the glass from the sink and drained it once more.

You laid on your stomach as the food settled. Your ass was still raw. Just moving caused your flesh to sear. You fell asleep again. This time deeper. Without your hunger to keep you awake, you sank into a heavy slumber. Your head swirled with visions of Steve; his blue eyes furious, his hand around your throat. Your descent into the hidden room as you fought against the chains pulling you down. The last two days melded together in a distorted nightmare.

You awoke with a start. You lifted your head from the thin mattress. There was no pillow, only a thin blanket which did not offer much warmth in the underground chill. The plastic tray was gone, but the glass remained, a pitcher of water now beside it. You climbed out of the bed with a groan. Your head pounded and your body was cramped. You stretched and filled the glass; this time you only sipped.

You went to the sink and cranked it on. You removed your bra and panties and did your best to wash yourself. You turned your underwear inside out as you pulled them back on. Steve’s cum had turned the fabric crusty. As you twisted the faucet off, the light died and the room turned black. You felt your way through the dark back to the bed. You laid on your side and exhaled with a shudder. You hadn’t thought it could get worse but now you longed for the constricting dresses and tedious chores.

A sudden whir and rush of air funneled into the room. There was a small vent just above the bed. It blasted a chill into the room. You wrapped yourself in the blanket and shivered. The bluster did not relent. You curled up on the bed and hugged your knees to your chest. He was just torturing you now. You whined and closed your eyes. It hadn’t even been two days. You weren’t going to make it. _You couldn’t._

-

You counted the days by the flicker of the light bulb. It would turn on and you would take note of another morning.  _What was this? Day ten? Eleven?_ Close enough. After the bulb flicked on, it would only be a few minutes before Steve arrived with your breakfast. Two hard boiled eggs and toast. A glass of milk, too. He came and went without a word; without a glance. Your time was left empty; listless. You would pace, hum, talk to the walls. Do anything to distract yourself from the endless void. 

He would come again in the evening. Then, he left some microwaved dinner or a bowl of canned soup. Water for this meal. You would only have a little time before the pitch black marked the end of the day. When he returned in the morning, he would take the empty dishes and replace them with the next meal. Food became your only solace and yet there was not enough of it. 

The nights were cold. The vent would rattle and the cold air would seep into the room; into your bones. You spent most of the night shaking beneath the thin wool. Sleep was not so easy anymore. You would stare into the black and listen. Sometimes you could hear him; walking around the bedroom or in the shower. The faint pitter of water made you think of the rain. The eerie calm of childhood thunderstorms. When you thought of the world outside, you couldn’t help but cry; often without meaning to. Your world had been set afloat in an ocean of tears.

That night, you didn’t eat the lukewarm soup. You stared into the depths and your stomach churned. You were hungry but nauseous. You couldn’t will yourself to eat even as you felt the familiar pangs. You dumped the chicken broth and noodles into the toilet and flushed. You sat back against the side of the bed, your legs sprawled along the floor. You hung your head and gulped. Your head ached from your spontaneous bursts of despair. You weren’t going to cry again.

The sparkle along your finger caught your eye. You held up your hand to the light; the pink diamond caught the yellow glare and twinkled. You scowled at the stone and ripped it past your knuckle. Your held it up and a surge of anger took you. That came as often as the sadness. These fits were harder to quell. There was no relief for them. You pondered tossing the band down the drain; you were tempted.

You shook your head and the fury slaked away as quickly as it had rose. You dropped the ring into the bowl and dragged yourself from the floor. He could have it back. You didn’t want it. You had never wanted it. You climbed into bed and only minutes after, the light bulb went black. Your timing was getting better. The air shuddered on and you cocooned yourself in the blanket. 

You heard the creak of the bed above. The one you used to share with Steve. It was almost right above your own. It was quiet for a few minutes; you were tired even. Close to dozing. Then you heard the deep groan. It wasn’t unusual. The last few nights it had become a ritual. Steve made no effort to mute his voice. You knew what he was doing. You had heard him before in the shower, only these days, he did not say your name. That was how you knew he was mad. Really mad.

You clamped your hands over your ears and tried to tune it out. It made you feel so gross. Not because of what he was doing; he was human, but because what it made you want to do. So long below, alone, cold; you were desperate for warmth, for the touch of another. The noise of his pleasure made you ache. You didn’t want him, but you wanted someone. Anyone. And that was frightening.

_What would happen in another week? Would you have any strength left to you? Would you survive this?_ With each day, you became more convinced that you would never see beyond this room again. That was when the darkness grew startling. It closed in on you; its fingers around your throat; a weight upon your chest. The beast clawing at your flesh.

Steve cried out and you were drawn back to your reality. Your thighs were pressed together around your hand. You bit your lip as you squeezed your legs together and the vent blew down on you frigidly. You whined tore your hand out from between your thighs. You didn’t even remember uncovering your ear. You couldn’t remember much of anything. There was only the light bulb, the empty trays, and stifling darkness.

-

The next morning, the light buzzed as it turned on. You turned so that your back was to the room and you heard the hatch unlock. Steve’s footsteps filled the room. You heard him set down a plate and gather up the bowl from the night before. The clink of your ring bounced against the glass. Silence. You felt a subtle shift on the mattress behind you but did not look. You couldn’t look at him anymore.

You sensed his eyes on you but still you did not turn around. You pulled the blanket higher and nestled closer to the wall. You were certain it was all in your head. He wasn’t looking at you. You were nothing to him anymore. You would perish in this place. Finally, his footsteps began again, the stairs groaned below him, and the hatch closed. You were alone. Again. Always.

You rolled over as the smell of bacon tickled your stomach.  _Bacon?_  He hadn’t brought anything more than boiled eggs or bland porridge. You salivated as you reached over the side of the bed and grabbed a strip. Something hard pressed into your cheek as you leaned into the mattress. You sat up and took a bite as you picked up the sharp object. It was the ring. Steve had left it just beside your head. He wouldn’t take it back. You were almost relieved.

You crammed the rest of the bacon in your mouth and slid down onto the floor. You shoved your finger through the ring until it was firmly in place. You took one of the eggs and began to peel the shell as you chewed the crispy bacon. You noticed then the glass of orange juice. Usually, he brought milk but today, he had been generous. You would thank him when he came again. It was only polite.

-

It was two days before you worked up the nerve. You were afraid to break the silence. Afraid you would anger him again. Or more. You didn’t blame him for being mad. You had stolen from him; destroyed his property; run away. That had been wrong. After everything he had done for you. Sat in just your soiled underwear, it became plain that you had not appreciated his kindness. The clothes, the records, the house…you had been ungrateful.

You were waiting on your dinner. Your legs hurt from pacing but when you sat, they shook in anticipation. You rinsed your plate and glass, and stacked them neatly with the cutlery. You were at the bottom of the steps when the hatch opened. You retreated in fright and backed up to the wall. You watched as Steve’s shoes appeared at the top of the stairs. As he descended, you admired his long legs, lean torso, and muscled arms. His golden hair was neatly combed and his blue eyes clung to the dishes in his hands.

You pressed yourself to the wall as he neared to set down your meal. As he bent down, you knelt and lifted the empty dishes. His jaw clenched as he looked at them and he stood as you mirrored his movements. You held them out and smiled. Or tried to. “Thank you, sweetheart,” You said breathily.

His blue eyes burned into your hands. You could tell he was struggling not to look at your face, but he couldn’t help as his gaze strayed to your chest, then your stomach, and below. He exhaled deeply and took the dishes without an answer. You were trembling as he turned his back to you and marched back up the stairs. The hatch closed and you let out a pathetic sob. You sank to your knees and stared down at the macaroni. You pushed away the plate as you sat back on your heels and slumped against the wall. You were going to die down here.

-

That night you couldn’t sleep. Really, any night, but you couldn’t even lay down. Even after the bulb had flickered to black, you had paced around the small space. You didn’t care that you stubbed your toe or bumped your knee. You couldn’t stay still. You had to get out. There was a panic in you which you had never felt before. The feeling when you know it’s the end and there’s no going back. An inevitability come to pass.

You fell against the stairs as your shins met the bottom step. You looked up at the hatch. Slivers of the light above limned its border. Slowly, carefully, with the thought of throwing yourself back down them, you climbed the stairs on your knees. You couldn’t hear Steve but you knew by the light that he was still awake. Like you. He was sleepless too.  _Was it for the same reason?_

You tap on the door. No answer. You knocked again, louder. You heard the bed creak but no footsteps. You pressed your palm to the wood and sighed. “Steve,” You said. Your voice was thick as your throat closed with the threat of tears. You cleared your throat and forced yourself to speak louder. “Steve, sweetheart. Please…” You got as close to the hatch as you could. “I–I’m sorry.”

You waited. Silence. Everyday silence. It was driving you mad. You would rather death than this endless hush. You banged with your fist and exclaimed.

“You can’t leave me down here!” You pleaded. “Sweetheart, please. I can’t—I-I-I…” You sucked back a sob and hung your head. “I need you. Please.” You sniffed as tears trickled down your nose. “Don’t you love me, sweetheart?” You called to him. “I thought you loved me.” You leaned against the step and wiped your eyes. You didn’t hear anything. “…I love you.”

The hatch opened suddenly. You looked up into the blinding light as it silhouetted Steve’s broad shoulders. His golden hair shone like a beacon and his blue eyes burned fiercely as he looked down at you. You waited with baited breath for him to pull you out or push you back down.


	14. Forgive, Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader tries to be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! I got this chapter done after sitting on the first half for the last week. I hope you enjoy it and so sorry about it being late. Enjoy your Wednesday or what day it is for you and hopefully this makes your hump day all the better. Love you all. Thanks for your patience and understanding, but most of all, your support <3
> 
> I looked forward to hearing from you in the comments. <3

Steve bent to pull you off the stairs and into the bedroom. He held you away from him, his hands on your shoulders as he stared back at you. It felt so nice. So nice to be seen. His own eyes were glossy. “Say it again, honey,” He intoned.

“I love you,” You sputtered as if the words couldn’t rise fast enough. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh,” He pulled you to him, your head against his shoulder as he embraced you. You could hear his heartbeat; it mingled with your own as it pulsed in your ears. “It’s okay, honey. I forgive you.” He held you for a time before slowly releasing you. As he parted from you, he took your hands and marveled at the stone along your ring finger. “You put it back on.”

“You didn’t…take it,” Your voice didn’t sound like yours. It had been so long since you had anyone else to talk to. Since he had even looked at you. You were stunned to find his gaze held no resent; no anger. Only affection.

His hand closed over yours and his other came up to touch your cheek. You could smell yourself. Out of the small box below, your filth became more apparent. You were suddenly embarrassed but he didn’t seem to notice. He bent to kiss your lips. You almost turned away; out of shame, guilt. That reticence which came after a grave offence. When compassion felt like censure.

You let him press his lips to yours. Leaned into him even as his warmth flowed through you. A relief after the last nights spent in the cold. The thin blanket a poor solace in the storm. When he stood straight, you were unsteady. Dizzy from the rush of human contact. The lights blurred in your vision, the room a cloud; dreamlike. It was as if you had ascended to a new world.

“Come on,” He kept hold of your hand and drew you towards the bathroom. He led you inside and released you reluctantly. You watched as he bent over the tub and cranked the faucet. The splash of water against the porcelain sent a shiver through you. You longed to sink its its depths forever. “I’ll get you something to sleep in…” He paused and looked down at you, “You looked tired, honey.”

You folded your hands before you and looked down. How kind he was. To care for your so diligently. You had been so selfish in not seeing it for so long. For denying him. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled again.

“Please, no more apologies,” He brushed his hand along your arm and kissed your forehead. “We should focus on our future…together.”

You nodded and he stepped past you. You listened as you twiddled your fingers. You could hear his footsteps in the bedroom, the groan of the closet door. It was so much nicer up here. Below, everything felt so distant. So unreal. You neared the tub and watched as the water poured in. The ripples swam in your head as the steady flood sent a chill through you. You lost yourself in the music of the water. An unknown string tugged at the back of your mind. An obscure shadow looming over you as if you had forgotten something important.

You jumped at the sudden movement along the edge of your vision. Steve set down a coral sleeping gown on the toilet seat. He smiled at your disoriented gaze. You returned the gesture but your lips trembled and you quickly pressed them together. You looked back to the claw-footed basin and Steve’s silhouette retreated. The door clicked and you peeked over your shoulder to find it closed.

You heart raced as you stared at the door. Another small box. Another cell. You wanted him to stay. You didn’t want to be alone again. You stutter-stepped towards the door but stopped yourself. You weren’t trapped in here; he was just there on the other side of the wall. Waiting for you. You exhaled and spun back to the tub. You stumbled over to twist the faucet before it could overflow.

You stripped yourself of the musty underwear. Your fingers impatient and clumsy. You caught yourself on the edge of the tub as your feet caught in the panties. You lifted your leg over the porcelain, then the other. You braced the sides as you lowered your achy body into the steamy pool. A chill went through you despite the heat. As you sank back against the basin, your worries slaked away in the depths.

You didn’t move for a while. Your muscles, stiff from days atop the thin mattress, loosened and your skin buzzed at the fiery embrace of the water. You sat up to scrub yourself. Lavender replaced the stench of sweat. The water coloured with the remnants of your metamorphosis. You were you again. The world was clear and you had a place in it.

You pulled the plug and lifted yourself wearily. You were suddenly very tired. You just wanted to lay down. You dried off and pulled on the sleeping gown. There were no underwear to go beneath. You gathered your dirtied garments from the floor and hung the towel on the rack. You slowly opened the door and stepped out into the room. It was so much brighter than before.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed and stood as you emerged. You held up your handful and nodded to the closet. He smiled in permission and you crossed the room softly. As if any noise or sudden movement would rile him. You dumped the underwear in the hamper and turned back to the room. The hatch was closed and once more concealed below the rug. Your cheek twitched. You were safe, for now. So long as you were good.

“Come here,” Steve turned and sat back against the headboard, his hand rubbed circles beside him on the mattress. 

You bit the inside of your lip and neared meekly. The scene reminded you of another time. A memory you couldn’t place. You climbed up onto the bed and settled beside him. He drew you close with an arm around your shoulder. 

“I missed you,” He whispered in your ear.

“I missed you, too,” You replied swiftly. You had to make him know how much you needed him, then he could never throw you back down there. “I really did…I–”

“I know, dear,” He took your hand and held it up before him. “It hurt me too. To not have you here. To hold…to touch.” Your entire being buzzed at the timbre in his voice. 

Your jaw tensed and you watched his fingers twine with yours. He was so warm. So tender. You had never noticed before how kind he was. You raised your head slowly and looked him in the eye. His blue irises twinkled down at you. No one had ever looked at you like that. You didn’t deserve him. 

“Can I–” You clasped your lips shut and shied away guiltily. You knew what you wanted to ask but didn’t know how. You were embarrassed to say it aloud. You lowered your eyes and shook your head at yourself. Steve’s hand left yours and he nudged your chin so that you had to look at him.

“What?” He urged. You could tell he knew what you wanted. The glimmer in his eye had changed; the curve of his smile, too. “Say it.”

You swallowed and drew your brows together. You focused on the words as if you were speaking a foreign language. As if trying to comprehend some elaborate riddle. “Can I…” You closed your eyes as you thought of the nights below. The noises of his pleasure above. Your interminable desolation. Your eyes snapped open and the words tumbled out. “Can I touch you?”

He sighed as if in relief. He leaned back against the headboard and his smile grew as he lifted a brow. His arm bent and he ran his fingers over your hair. “Of course, honey.” His voice was airy yet heavy. Delighted but determined. His eyes fell to his lap and yours followed. You could see him through his thin pajamas. His cock was already hard and twitched beneath the plaid. 

His breaths were measured but loud. His anticipation thickened the air and you wiggled your fingers nervously. You licked your lips as you looked up at him for approval. He nodded and you rested your hand on his thigh. His breath hitched for just a second. Slowly, you let your hand drift upward, his arm fell once more across your shoulders. You twisted as you reached the waistband, his arm curled around you with your movement.

You tugged on the elastic and he shifted. He lifted his pelvis as you pulled them lower. You felt a shiver shake his body as his pajamas slipped down his thighs. You angled the waistband past the swollen head of his cock and you couldn’t help the dusky gasp which escaped your lips. You pushed his pants past the base of his erection as your palm brushed against his length. 

You released the fabric and dragged your fingertips along his cock. He shuddered and your eyes clung to his girth. He was big. You traced a circle around the head and he rasped. You gripped him, his flesh hot against yours, and slowly ran the length of him. His hand went to the back of your head and he pulled your closer. His breath brushed over you as he nuzzled your hair. He pressed a firm kiss against the top of your head.

You brought your hand back up and a chill tickled your spine. You repeated the motion, twisting just a little around his head. He groaned and his pelvis bucked in surprise. You continued to stroke him as his grunts grew deeper; louder. His other hand stretched across yours and his fingers grasped the back of your head as he pushed himself against you. Wrapped himself around you entirely.

He guided your hand with his. His pace grew quicker and quicker as his breath kept time. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he held you to him. His whole being quaked against you as the heat bloomed in your core. You could feel your desire as it flowed from you. You felt his body tense and a spurt of warmth dribbled down your hand and between your fingers. You spread his cum along his cock and he threw his head back in a sudden and final grunt.

He stilled your hand but kept it around his cock. His cum cooled along your palm and slowly he removed it as it turned sticky. He admired it in the light as his embrace around you loosened. He let go of your hand and fell back heavily against the headboard. His hairline was damp with sweat and his eyes closed in rapture. You held your hand up to keep from spreading the mess and waited for him to recover.

His hand balled into a fist against his thigh and his other clenched the strap of your nightgown. He huffed and his jaw squared as he squeezed his eyes tight. He shook his head and sharply recoiled from you as he sat up. He turned his legs over the side of the bed and hung his shoulders forward as he rested his elbows on his knees. “No. no… we can’t. Not yet.”

“Sweetheart?” You called to him softly. You got to your knees and neared him unevenly on the mattress.

“Don’t touch me,” He stood and spun to look down at you. “Not…now.” He inhaled deeply and steadied himself with a hand on his chest. “I just…we have to wait for…” His eyes ran down your body. The strap of the nightgown had fallen down your shoulder and you felt the cool air low on your cleavage. He gulped and reached out to fix it, a tentative pat to secure it. “You should go wash up.”

He stepped back and turned away from you again. You watched him as he crossed his arms and the muscles of his broad back tightened. He was fighting with himself. You carefully stood from the bed and tiptoed behind him to the bathroom door. You looked at him just before you entered, he raised his hands to the back of his head as sighed.

“Not yet,” You heard him mutter. “Not,” A shaky breath between words, “Yet.”

You left him as he was, afraid to push him further. His lust didn’t scare you, only his displeasure. You suspected if you were to force him beyond his limit, his yearning may once more turn to acrimony. That you would earn another punishment. 

You neared the sink and turned the handle. You shoved your hand under the stream of lukewarm water and watched it wash over your hand. You guilt flowed down the drain with his cum. You could be good. You had to.


	15. Be Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader takes the lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter this week, hope you don’t mind but next one should be full of plot! Love you all. Thanks for your patience and understanding, but most of all, your support <3
> 
> I looked forward to hearing from you in the comments <333 Love you!

The night went by like any before you were banished below. Steve clung to you in your sleep except this time you were able to doze off. Content, if not a little wanting. His subtle snores kept time with your breath and lulled you to sleep. You were groggy  when you awoke at the chime of his alarm clock, as if a veil hung over you. You hadn’t slept so well in weeks. Since before you had woken in this place. 

Steve was reluctant to rise. His thick arm tightened around you and he wiggled his hips. You could feel his excitement. It had not softened since you laid down beside him. You pushed back against him in response, a tired mumble slipped from your lips. He groaned and rolled away from you. He sighed as he fell onto his back. You turned over as he rubbed his crotch beneath the blanket. His features tensed in frustration.

“Honey, we--”

“Shhh,” You ran your hand across his chest and he inhaled sharply. “I know...we have to wait.”

His blue eyes met yours with a flash of confusion. You slipped your hand under the blanket and grazed your hand along his stomach. You felt his muscles tighten against your palm. Your fingers slid past the waist of his pajamas and you squeezed his erection through the thin fabric. He twitched and reached down to still your hand.

You kept your hand where it was and propped yourself up on your elbow. You leaned over to kiss his lips as he hissed. He was still at first; surprised by your eager kiss. At last he responded and you rubbed his length as his hand slipped from yours. You slowly dragged your fingers back along his pelvis and tickled his stomach. He hummed into your mouth and you felt the firm muscle of his chest. 

You brought your hand up to cradle his cheek and lifted your leg over him. You straddled him and your nightie bunched up above your ass.. You opened your mouth and welcomed him in as you squeezed him between your thighs. His bulge pressed against your bare pussy and you rocked your hips against him. The friction stoked the tickle which lingered from the night before.

You moaned and repeated the motion. You placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed yourself up. His lips were slightly parted as he watched you move slowly. His hands went to your hips and he stopped you again. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. He pressed his head back into the pillow and began to guide your hips. You followed his lead and fell into a steady rhythm.

The heat began to gather in your bud. Your breath kept time with your thrusts, each coming quicker than the last. Steve’s hands wandered to your bare ass. His nails dug into you skin as he shuddered beneath you and his body tensed. He bit his lip as you rode him harder and harder. You gripped his shoulders and ground your pussy against him as you chased the rising tide.

You could feel your wetness spreading across his pajamas, his arousal more obvious through the damp cotton. You were desperate for release after so long afraid and alone, plus the scene the night before. You recalled his cum as it dripped down your knuckles, the same groans now filled your head. The sounds of his pleasure fueled your own.

You reached back and put your hands on his. You arched your back and sped up. He gasped and you looked down as he grunted. His cheeks flushed as he came and you moaned in delight. Your orgasm rose so suddenly after that you fell forward and rocked against him until your muscles ached. You laid over him with your cheek pressed to his sweaty chest. You stilled your hips and closed your eyes as you basked lingered in the afterglow.

Steve pushed his hands up beneath your nightie and drew circles around your spine. You shivered and he gripped your waist. He rolled you over before you could react. You were trapped beneath him and he crashed his lips into yours. You felt a twitch between your legs as he propped himself up on an elbow. His thick thighs kept your from closing your legs.

He lifted his head and his other hand, he felt around along front of his cum-soaked pajamas. He pulled his cock out and your bliss turned to panic. He rubbed himself along your clit and you pushed on his shoulders. “Steve,” You rasped, “Sweetheart…” Your voice hung in the air as he dragged his tip along your folds and paused at your entrance. He dropped his head beside yours and sighed. 

He pushed himself off of you and fell back on the mattress. The entire bed shook beneath his weight. His cock throbbed above his cotton pants. He gripped the base and squeezed his eyes shut. He spoke quietly but firmly. “Go. Get washed up, dear.”

You stared at him but he would not open his eyes. Would not look at you. You gulped and sat up. You shimmied to the edge of the bed. The tingle between your thighs felt like guilt. You tiptoed to the bathroom door and stopped just inside as you peeked back at him. His hand was already moving up and down his cock, his arm across his face as he stifled his moans. You watched for a moment before you turned away.

You closed the door and pressed yourself against it as you listened. Soon he could not restrain himself. You could hear his voice as he stroked himself. You heard the same grunts and groans in your time below. He had missed you. The thought made your heart flutter. 

You leaned against the door and reached below your nightie. Your fingertips flitted over your clit and you twitched. You purred and clasped your hand over your mouth. You twirled your fingers over your bud as you listened to Steve on the other side. His heavy breaths echoed your own and his sharp ascent guided you. You heard him cum and you were close behind. You pushed yourself against the door as your thighs shook and you bit down on your hand. 

You sank down to the cool tile and sighed. All was silent in the next room. A sense of peace washed over you as you sat against the door. You smiled and looked around in a haze. All at once, the corners sharpened and colours shone brighter. You could see everything so clearly now.

-

You showered quickly. When you emerged in only a towel, Steve was distant. He kept away from you and swiftly hid inside the bathroom. You stared at the door as it clicked shut and listened to the muted stream of the shower head. You went to the closet and dressed. Bra, panties, garter, and thigh-highs. 

You heard the twist of the faucet as you pushed through the hangers and chose a yellow dress with daisies embroidered along the collar and skirt. You placed a pair of heels at the foot of the stool and sat at the vanity. You carefully arranged your hair and did your make up. The rituals felt so familiar and yet forgotten. 

The bathroom door opened and you saw Steve enter in the mirror. He held tight to the towel around his waist and walked decisively across the room. He disappeared into the closet and you listened to him dress. You waited patiently at the table until he reappeared. He wore his usual pressed shirt and trousers, his shoes and jacket in hand. His tie was perfectly looped but his hair was messy. He sat behind you on the edge of the bed and you turned on the stool.

“Sweetheart?” Your voice was dainty; afraid.  _Was he mad at you?_

“I have to go to work,” He laid out his jacket beside him and dropped one shoe to the floor as he lifted his foot to slip the other on. “Sorry, honey, but restaurant’s been busy. I’ve been meeting with contractors all week and--” He huffed and grabbed his other shoes. He tied it and stood as he stretched his shoulders against the taut fabric. “We’re thinking a remodel before next summer. Less than a year away.”

“Oh?” You raised your brows. You felt as if you had missed so much. 

“And of course, the wedding’s coming up quick.” He pulled his jacket on and neared. He brushed his fingers along your cheek and shoulder. “Just over a week…” He played with the collar of your dress, “I have a favour to ask of you, dear.”

“Yes?” You smiled up at him.

“Spice needs a new look.” He backed away and paced back around the bed. He opened the night table on your side and pulled out the same sketchbook he had gifted you the day he had unlocked the den. “Do you think you could draw something up?”

“I--of course,” You stood and he met you at the foot of the bed. He handed you the book, his eyes strayed to the top of your dress. You stared at the cover; there were fingerprints worn into it. Much bigger than your own. “Shall I start breakfast?”

“Breakfast?” He blinked. “No, no. You’ll be staying in here for the day.”

“What?” You looked around the bedroom. It didn’t seem so big anymore. “In here?”

“If you behave, I’ll unlock the kitchen again,” He chided, “A little at a time, dear.”

You tried to hide your disappointment and smiled pathetically at the sketchbook. He was still mad at you. You recalled the few drawings you had etched inside. A still life of the kitchen sink, a quick draft of a perched sparrow, a scribble over your own face. Is that what he had looked so long at?

His hand closed around yours on the book and his other went to your chin. “I’ll bring you your breakfast before I leave, okay?” He forced you to look at him. “You should try to relax while you can. Life’s about to get real busy for us.” You tilted your head curiously and he leaned in to peck your lips. “Be good.” Those were his last words as he parted. He left you at the end of the bed; stunned, confused, lost. 

Back to square one.


	16. Cold Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding looms closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without further ado, here ya guys go.
> 
> I look forward to hearing from you in the comment. <3

Two days. Two days spent trapped in the bedroom. It felt like deja vu. A bad dream. 

You were good. You greeted Steve at the end of the day. He brought little plastic trays of food and a bottle of wine. Just like your first night here. That felt an awful long time ago. You sat and listened to him as he talked about his day. You realized you had never done that before. Never actually listened to him. You had been selfish. Too stuck in your own head.

The reno was just starting. A burst pipe, questions of marble or ceramic, sconces or chandeliers. He brought his plans home and mulled them after dinner. He sighed and huffed and puffed until he was frustrated. 

Then he asked about your day.  _How could you tell him it was miserable?_ As if you were trapped in a cage, albeit better than the one below. You smiled and lied. You showed him the sketches of different logos you had drawn in your boredom. He held the sketchbook up to his face in admiration. He smiled and pointed to the middle one.

“I like it. It’s sophisticated but not stuffy,” He put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close on the sofa. 

He tossed the sketchpad on the cushion beside you and his hand slipped down to your thigh. He squeezed. He hadn’t touched you after work the day before, only retreated to the shower and moaned. You listened and waited eagerly for him. In bed, he held you close but didn’t stray. He was staunch. Repentant.

“Really?” You asked with a smile. “I suppose, though it won’t be needed for a while. You’ll need the right paint before you put up a new sign.”

“Yes, we have much more pressing matters,” His hand slid over your shoulder and down your arm. You were almost in his lap. “Like a dress…”

“Dress?” Your head perked up and you looked to him in confusion. “You mean…?”

“You’re going to need a proper fitting. I got the call today that they’ve got it but they need your measurements.” He rubbed your arm as he leaned in. His breath was hot and his voice turned wispy. “I know how you girls want everything to be perfect. You’ve been dreaming of this your whole life.”

You blinked.  _No, you hadn’t._  You despised the thought of a white gown. The antiquated ritual. You couldn’t tell him that. Couldn’t disappoint him. You lowered your eyes as you thought of the room just below the sofa. A shiver tickled your spine and you smiled.

“I made the appointment for the morning.” He continued. “You’ve been so good.” His hand drifted up your stomach and over your chest. He cradled your cheek and drew you against him. “I trust you to behave.”

The tone of his voice would not suggest to another that it was a warning. But it was. You held your smile. “I will, sweetheart.” 

You pushed your lips to his and he softened beneath your kiss. He sunk into you and lifted you onto him completely. His arm hugged your waist and his other held the back of your head. You felt the twitch in his pants. He groaned and parted from you lips . He pushed his head into the cushion and slowly released you.

His chest rose and fell. He closed his eyes and felt his forehead. “Why don’t you go get washed up?” His brushed his fingers through his hair. “You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

-

When you woke, Steve was already up. The bedroom door was open and you could hear noise from the kitchen. Light shone in through the door and you sat up slowly, certain you were still dreaming. You rose and crept quietly to the kitchen and peeked through.

Steve was at the stove before a pan of scrambled eggs and another of spitting bacon. His blues eyes were intent on his work as his hand moved deftly from one handle to the other. The window was back in place as if it had never been disturbed. As if it were real.

You tapped lightly on the door frame. He turned to you as his focus broke and he smiled.

“Good morning,” He neared as you hesitated to break the threshold. “I was trying to let you sleep…well, as much as you can. Fitting’s at 9:30.”

“Oh?” You leaned on the door frame and looked down at the transition from hardwood to tile. 

“Breakfast’s almost done. You want coffee?” He asked as he neared. You nodded and he bent to peck your lips before turning back to the percolator. “Go on and sit,” He waved to the dining room over his shoulder. “I’ll bring it to you.”

You slowly placed a foot over the line. He didn’t seem to notice. Didn’t grab you and drag you back across. Didn’t seeth and shout. He was entirely content as he opened the cupboard and pulled out a flowered mug. 

Each step fell easier until you were at the dining room door. You glanced over your shoulder. His shirt rippled across his broad back as he poured the coffee, his golden head bent to his task.

You carried onto the table and sat in your usual spot. He had already laid out cutlery and napkins. You gripped the edge of the table and your leg shook nervously. Your eyes found the door across from you. Closed. Locked. The very one that led to the hallway. The hall which led to the stairs. To the way out.

Steve entered with the mug and you tore your eyes from the door. You thanked him as he set the coffee before you along with the pitcher of milk. He rubbed your shoulder and kissed your forehead before retreating to the kitchen. You waited silently until he returned; plates of bacon and eggs in hand. He placed one in front of you and sat with his own.

He took a few bites and you pushed your eggs around with your fork. He noticed and held his fork against his plate. “Are you unwell, honey?”

“No, I just…” You didn’t know what you were. How to explain it.

You were going outside today. The last time you had, you ended up in frigid basement cell. You shivered just thinking of it. You tried to smile and your lips trembled. You scooped up some eggs. 

“I want to be good.” You popped the eggs in your mouth and he nodded.

“I know you can, dear,” He assured you. 

The tick in his jaw went and you knew he was thinking of it too. Of you running away from him. You forced each bite down in the tense silence. He finished before you and placed his fork down carefully cross his plate. He sighed and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

“Well, honey, I have absolute faith that you can behave,” He leaned forward, an arm on the table, and dropped his napkin on the plate. His eyes bore into you and his voice turned steely. “In fact, I  _know_  you can.”

-

You stared down at the jeans and tee. The were so plain. Steve gave them to you after breakfast. You recognized them. They belonged to you but they didn’t feel like it. They were from long ago… _a month?_  You couldn’t remember. Time bled together and never felt as it was. This was not you. This was the old you.

You were greeted in the bridal boutique by a tall blonde woman. She looked as if she could be Steve’s sister. She offered your champagne as she showed you into a porcelain and velvet lobby. Steve sat and you stood. You crossed your arms and paced. You were waiting for something but he wouldn’t tell you what.

He caught your hand as you passed him for the fifth time. “They’ll be here soon. Calm down.”

“They?” You wondered as he twined his fingers through yours. “Who–”

Voices sounded from down the hall. The tall blonde receptionist could be heard above the rabble. Steve stood and squeezed your hand before releasing it. The receptionist entered and stepped aside to wave in the group. She offered them drinks but they were much more interested in the man waiting for them.

Steve greeted the first with a hug. Tony Stark pulled away from him and chuckled. “Damn, let me breathe.” 

The second man got a hand shake and vague recognition clicked in your head. A slender blonde man came third, an ashy-haired woman closed behind, another man was laughing over his shoulder at a red head who was also familiar. You stood patiently behind Steve. 

You hadn’t been around this many people since the police station. You recalled the cold concrete, the metal bars, the one way mirror. Steve glaring at you through the glass. The cell phone, the lies… _the truth_ , you reminded yourself and folded one hand over the other. 

“And the bride herself,” Tony brushed past Steve, “You must be Raven. About time the old man let us meet you. I was starting to think he was embarrassed of us.”

“Um, hi,” Tony Stark knew your name. You were stunned. He held out his hand and you glanced over at Steve. He was watching you. You shook Tony’s hand. “You–”

“Don’t need an introduction, I know,” He winked and let go of you. He turned back and waved the others over. “Now let’s not all act like shy teens.” He crossed an arm over his chest and pointed to the first among the party, “This is Sam,” He slowly went down the line, “Vis, Wanda, Rhodey, and Nat. You’re motley wedding party.”

“My family,” Steve clapped Tony’s shoulder as he stepped around him. “Honey, I know it’s a lot–”

“No, no,” You put on the smile you had perfected. The one born of self-preservation. “It’s so nice to finally meet everybody.”

More voices from the entrance. You bit your lip and tried to glance past Tony. Rhodey stepped aside as the blonde receptionist returned. Your heart dropped. Tandi looked around as she entered, surprised by the half-dozen bodies already there. Your smile felt real now. Your cheeks ached and you rushed forward past Sam and Wanda and clung to her. 

Behind her, was another surprise. Your parents. 

“Well, it’s nice to see you too,” Tandi giggled, “I know it’s been a while but–”

“You’re here,” You released her and held onto her to make sure she was real, “You’re all here.” You turned to your mom and dad and stretched your arms around both of them.

“Dear, I know it’s been a rough few weeks but you don’t need to be so dramatic,” It was definitely your mom. Her usual reticence, your father’s silent reproach. You backed away and corrected yourself. “We only thought it natural to fly in for the wedding and we were hoping to see the city again, so it works out quite nicely.”

“Estelle?” You wondered at your absent sister.

“She’ll be here the day before. She’s in England again.” Your father explained. “Maxing out my gold card.”

“Oh,” You sensed Steve’s approach and he stopped beside you. “I really appreciate you all coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Tandi sang but her eyes weren’t on you. She was starstruck by the man at your shoulder and the several other familiar faces around the room. It all felt surreal. 

_Was this a dream? Had these last few days been a fantasy?_ Perhaps you were still in the small room, lost in delirium.

Your mother muttered a shallow nicety and your father straightened up as he greeted the former Avenger. They had always favoured Estelle and you were certain your marriage was more an inconvenience than a celebration. Why if it were to any other, you doubted they would’ve troubled themselves.

“Mr–”

“Please, it’s Jim,” Your dad corrected Steve and shook his hand eagerly. He  _would_  be a fool for the Captain America. “So pleased to meet you.”

“At last,” Your mother commented with a preening smile and shook his hand next. “Thank you so much for reaching out for us while our daughter was dealing with her…troubles.”

The dread set in. This was why you had moved all the way to New York for art school and stayed. Your parents had never approved of your lifestyle, your work. They didn’t want an artist, they wanted a lawyer. You couldn’t help but wonder how Estelle got away with her influencer status.

“We should get moving,” Steve interrupted the rising chatter and looked at his watch. “We’re already behind.” He leaned in to peck your cheek. “Be good.”

-

You hated it. It was horrible. You didn’t look like you. You had sat through the bridesmaid fittings and your mother’s. Their dresses were lovely. The wedding party had sleek rose sheath dresses and each looked like flowers in a row. Minimal adjustments to be done. Even your mother was shining in her deep plum dress. And you looked like an impostor.

The white sparkled in the mirror, the off-the shoulder sleeves felt like a vice, and your hips… The consultant, Vicki, clipped the bodice so that it stayed in place and you sighed. It was the same dress you had pointed to without regard but it could never look as good on you as it did the model. 

“You ready?” Vicki asked and unlatched the stall door. “You look so lovely.”

You lowered your eyes and tried to hide your detest. It didn’t feel right. It was heavy and too loose in one spot and too tight in another. You turned stiffly and lifted the skirt as she waved you out. She followed and grabbed the tail of the gown. You made your grueling way to the mirrored room where your party waited.

When you entered, a hush settled over them. You stepped up on the platform and kept your eyes averted. You could feel your mother’s judgment, the unwavering gazes of the rest. You turned and looked in the mirror as you dropped the skirt. The consultant fanned it out around your feet.

You still couldn’t stand the sight.

“Oh my god,” Tandi made you flinch as she appeared beside the platform, “You look amazing.”

“Really?” You ran your hands across the bodice.

“Really,” She assured you, “Isn’t it gorgeous, girls?”

“I like this,” Wanda came up on the other side and gestured to the embroidery along the neckline. “Very classy.”

“I’m not a fan of white, but I like it,” Nat commented as she approached with hands on hips.

Your mother stayed on the couch and didn’t speak. You turned to look at her as she rubbed her chin. “I think, perhaps, a veil might put it into perspective.” You nodded.

_Why had you ever expected a compliment?_ You sighed and looked back to the mirror.

The consultant flitted off. She returned with a length of embroidered tulle; dainty and understated. She stepped up and clipped it at the crown of your head. You watched in the mirror. Your stomach dropped as she stepped back. 

You blinked at your reflection. Was it really you?

You were getting married. You felt lightheaded at the thought. It was real. The veil, the dress, the ring. In five days you were going to marry Steve Rogers. The rest of your life sworn to him. This was it.

Steve Rogers; victorious again.


	17. So the bell tolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding bells ring and the reader hears them clearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the fates aligned and I got enough time before work to edit this and get it out so thanks everyone for understanding. I love you all and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Let’s just say, we’re in the endgame now.
> 
> I look forward to hearing from you in the comments. <3

One day. Your last night of freedom.  _No, not really._  That was long ago. 

Time passed swiftly, you could barely keep track. Each morning and night mirrored the last. The same bed, the same room, the same man beside you. You didn’t imagine that marriage would be much different. Your life was already his. You belonged to him. The ceremony was only a pretense.

Marriage. The word hovered over you. The reality of it just hours away. One sleep. One dinner. Another performance.

It was startling.  _How had you let yourself slip so far?_  Staring at yourself in the white dress, the veil, the ring sparkling on your finger. It was as if your very reflection had shattered before you. The happy bride-to-be wasn’t you. It was what Steve had made you. 

Your cheeks hurt from the fake smile, your throat tight as you forced out your lines. He was always watching. Always there. His hand on yours as your mother and father marveled at the man they were all too pleased to call their son-in-law. They swallowed his lies so much easier. For once, they were proud. Not of you, of course, but of the man you attached yourself to.

Steve ordered the wine. He bemoaned that this restaurant lacked the variety of his own. Alas, a meal there would have to wait until after the reno. For now, this would have to do. He requested a Cabernet and your mother cleared her throat.

“Steven,” She called him by his full name. She liked that. He did too. “If you will, Jim and I would actually prefer a champagne to celebrate the marriage. Our treat.”

“Not at all,” Steve waved her away, “I insist. It’s on my dime.” He turned to the waiter. “Champagne, then. And another glass. We are still awaiting another guest.”

The waiter as good as clicked his heels and diligently ran off to fetch the wine. It seemed everyone in the city knew your fiance. Revered him. You had been foolish before. He was more than the local celebrity, he was their saviour. That you had ever thought you could seek refuge in this city was naive.

Heels tapped along the floor and neared your table. Your mother glanced over her shoulder and waved to your sister. Estelle, with her died blonde hair and perfect contouring belonged more than you did. Steve stood and you mimicked him.

Your mother hugged your sister and your father did the same. You recalled how they had barely spared a nod for you. Steve greeted her with a handshake and a kiss on the cheek, “You must be Estelle.”

“And you’re Steve Rogers,” She sang, “Wow, I really thought you guys were playing me.”

She turned to you at last. “Hey,” Was all you could manage. She chuckled and pulled you into her arms. 

“Hey?” She held you back and looked you up and down. “Is that all I get?”

You felt the tingle behind your eyes. Your lips trembled but you kept your smile in place. “I missed you." 

"Oh yeah? Well, you know I’m always up for a trip to New York.” She chided. “You have my number.”

“I’m sorry,” You didn’t realize you had grabbed her hand. You released her slowly.

“No, don’t be,” She chimed, “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you!”

The waiter returned and you stepped back as he set down the bottle of champagne and the spare glass. You resumed your seat beside Steve, Estelle on your other side, and your heart sank. You loved your sister but even she would think you were crazy. Maybe you were.

Steve poured the champagne and handed the glasses out. “Oh, Essie, you must see the ring,” Your mother tapped the table with a long nail, “Come on, show her.”

You shakily raised your hand and placed it daintily on the table. The sparkling pink diamonds caught the light and Estelle gasped. “You know she has no taste but Steve did a marvelous job.”

“Mom,” You rescinded your hand as she reached for it.

“I think she has wonderful taste,” Estelle grinned at you. Your mother always agreed with her, even when she was wrong. Her baby girl could do no wrong.

“Well, I’ll allow that she had improved. That whole artist look…so drab,” She rolled her eyes. 

You couldn’t smile anymore. You glanced around at the other diners and gripped the edge of the table. You stood suddenly. Steve caught your hand quickly.  _Was it concern for you or that you’d try to flee? Could he see the treasonous thoughts behind your eyes?_

“I need to use the restroom,” You lied. “Excuse me.”

Steve nodded and kissed the back of your hand. “Alright, honey.” He let you go and Estelle pushed herself back to her feet. “I actually need to freshen up, too. I love the city but it’s dirty.”

She took your elbow and guided you past the table. You sensed Steve bristle as she did. Her hand slipped down and her fingers twined through yours as you neared the bathrooms. She pulled you inside quickly.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I can understand you not telling them, but _me_?” Her tone was not unkind. She was your best friend after all and in her eyes, you had entirely blocked her out of your life.

“I…” You exhaled and lowered your head. You looked at her hand in yours. “Es,” Your eyes were glassy but you sniffed back the tears.

“Did you see anyone?” She asked, “I know in uni, you had to see that counselour…”

“I’m not…” Your voice cracked and you shook your head. “It’s been stressful. The wedding. Planning…” You sighed. 

“Mom sent me a picture of the dress. It’s amazing,” She squeezed your hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.” She swung your hand. “I know it’s your special day so I haven’t told them yet but I want to tell you.”

“What?” You wondered.

“I got a sponsor. In England. Model and brand ambassador for big make-up line. Big,” She was giddy. “I’ll even be able to incorporate my Instagram. It’s actually one of the reasons they hired me.”

“That’s…wonderful, Es,” You hugged her again. Her dream was coming true. “I’m so proud of you. I can’t believe–England?”

“Yeah, that’s the part mom and dad won’t like,” She frowned, “But I’ll be going all over Europe. Asia, too.”

“Fuck them,” You said. “Really. They don’t matter. You should go and have the time of your life.”

“And you? Your art? I checked your website but…are you going to start again after the wedding? I really wanted to sponsor a piece for my apartment…or should I say flat?”

The wedding. You had almost forgot. You felt yourself deflate and you backed up against the sink. “I don’t know.” You whispered.

“What’s wrong?” She leaned next to you against the counter. “Nervous?”

“Yeah,” You said weakly. “Nervous.”

“Well don’t be, I’ll be right next to you,” She rubbed your back kindly, “Maid of honour, and all.”

-

Estelle wasn’t enough to save you but enough to make you brave. If this were to be your fate, you’d meet it with dignity. Even in white. Even in misery.

You didn’t sleep. Steve spent the night in the den and left you alone. _Tradition_ , he said. Even with the bed to yourself, you couldn’t settle. You rose in a daze; groggy and numb. You ate, dressed in jeans and a tee, and followed Steve up the stairs into the early morning light.

A church.  _Wow._ You almost laughed as you drove up to the grand cathedral. It was the place where celebrities and socialites wed, not you. Inside, Steve pecked your cheek and parted as you were left in a small room. A talkative stylist began on your hair and you drank cold coffee from a paper cup.

Your mother arrived shortly after with the dress and was followed by your sister and your collection of bridesmaids. Each had their own stylist and your mother bossed hers around like Meryl Streep in that movie. Estelle told her to stop and you were glad for it. She wouldn’t have listened to you.

Your make-up was light. Your face shone as if it were natural beauty and you leaned forward to look in the mirror. You looked good. You didn’t want to admit it, but you did.

The dress was a challenge in its. The laces tied tight enough to crush your ribs. You struggled to breath and wobbled as Estelle help you into your heels. The veil was pinned in your hair and a necklace with a single pearl around your neck. You reminded yourself of those gaudy royal weddings that people lost their heads over.  _Ugh._

You tucked the folded paper Steve gave you that morning and tucked it into your bodice. Your lines. You hadn’t read them yet. Dreaded it. You tried to breathe against the tight gown and closed your eyes as your mother’s voice rose in another complaint. You didn’t know if it was better to get it over with or enjoy the last minutes you had.

-

You hated that smile. That face. You held back a glare and forced your lips to curve in deceit. Steve’s voice carried across the caverned ceiling, his words as sickly as they were sweet. You felt as if you would pass out; from lack of air, lack of sleep. lack of sanity. He held your hand as he recited the words. Carefully planned and yet spontaneously pronounced. 

When he went silent, you stared at him. Voices buzzed in your ears, the audience in a ghastly silence. He squeezed your hand and the priest’s words came clearer. 

“Miss,” He whispered, “Your vows.”

You shook your head but the haze remained. With your free hand, you reached into your bodice and uncovered the folded paper. You drew your hand from Steve’s and unfolded it with a shudder. You gulped, cleared your throat, but couldn’t look at him. So you looked at candlestick behind him.

His writing blurred.  _Was it nerves or tears?_  Both. You shook and brought the paper closer. You focused on reading the letters. _Speak!_ You glanced up and Steve’s jaw ticked. You peered around the large room.  _Speak, goddamn it!_

“Steve,” You forced out, the first syllable the hardest. “Steve, my…love.” You swallowed the repulsion. He didn’t know. He didn’t know you weren’t his little doll. Didn’t know that when you go the first chance you would run.  _Yes, run_. “I’ve never been very good at these things. I express myself in pictures rather than words. I am no poet but some things are best said simply.” You inhaled and he took your hand again, the other wavered as you concentrated on the paper. “To put it simply, I love you. There’s not much more to say than that. Other than I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re my true love, my best friend…my hero.”

You almost crumpled the paper but instead folded it with one hand and held it to your skirt. The priest smiled at the two of you and made his final pronouncement, _“…man and wife…”_  

Steve pulled you close and you lifted your head just as his lips crashed into yours. The pews rumbled with applause and your stomach twisted. Finally, he pulled away.

“My wife,” He whispered as he turned you to the audience and raised your hand in his, “Mine.”

-

Steve hadn’t let go of you since the ceremony. His hand was always there, lingering. The limo ride, the dinner, the toasts. The latter the worst part. Empty words from those you didn’t know and those you did. Your father had taken the lead as your mother had little positive to say about you. ‘Finally, our little girl has got her head on straight–’ You were thankful when he swiped the microphone and you sunk into the endless folds of your skirt.

It all passed in a frightful blur. The time ticked by so quickly you were certain fate had you on some cursed list. You were hurtling towards the end and you weren’t ready for it. 

The DJ announced the imminent first dance and the walls of the grand banquet hall began to close in on you. Five minutes. Five minutes and all eyes would be on you again as you were trapped in the arms that would hold you for the rest of your life.

“Sweetheart,” You tugged on Steve’s hand. His grip was firm. “I gotta—” You struggled not to hyperventilate. “I gotta go…” You tilted your head. “You know…”

“Oh,” He blinked, “Uh, yes. Um, do we have time?”

“I’ll have to make it work,” Your panic was real but the reason not so transparent. “I’ll just…lift my skirts.”

He sighed. His brow furrowed as he thought. His blue eyes considered you. You shifted in your chair to add urgency to your act. 

“I can’t hold it,” You hissed. He shook his head and looked down the table. 

“Get your sister to help,” He checked his watch, “Three minutes.”

He stood and helped you rise. He walked you down the table and you tapped Estelle on the shoulder. You bent over her. “I need your help.” She rose and followed as Steve kept your hand in his. She had imbibed a bit too much already and she hiccuped as she trailed behind.

Steve escorted you to the hall and peered down it with a frown. His jaw twitched and you could see the suspicion whirring in his head. He turned to you as you grabbed Estelle with your free hand. He stared you down and reluctantly let go of you.

“Two minutes,” He warned, “They won’t wait.”

“I promise, I’ll be quick,” You pulled Estelle down the hall, “I need you to help me with my dress…” You let your voice carry.

“Again?” She slurred, “You know, I’ve seen these ones where the skirts come off–”

You turned the corner and glanced over your shoulder. Steve stood at the other end of the hall. His shoulders squared as he crossed his arms and watched after you. You disappeared around the bend and hurried Estelle towards the bathroom. You opened the door but kept her from going in. You let it close with a loud click and listened.

“Wh-” You clapped your hand over her mouth and signaled for her to hush. Her eyes rounded and you slowly pulled away. You knelt and carefully removed your heels as you nodded to her own.

You took your shoes and hers and backed slowly down the hall, keeping an eye over her shoulder as she wobbled after you. You could see the confusion but her drunkenness made her complacent. You gently pressed the long bar of the back door and eased it open. You waved her out and waited for her to follow.

You shut the door quietly and leaned against it. “What’s going on?” Estelle asked.

“I just–need air.” You tossed your heels and hers. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

“A walk? It’s your wedding–”

“Es, let’s go,” You inclined your head, a desperate grimace on your lips. “Please. I need to get away.”

“Why? You’re so happy and–”

“I can’t explain now, there’s no time,” You lifted your skirts and bunched them in your arms. “Come on.”

“Where–”

“I don’t care where. I need to get out of this city.” You began across the parking lot. “Let’s go.”

She followed and stumbled behind you. You turned to pick her up, your arm around her back as you urged her past the rows of car. She giggled. “I can’t believe you. Running away from your own wedding. It’s like that mov–”

“Shh,” You heard the door and ducked behind an SUV. You pulled her down with you and smothered her mouth again. “I…I’ll go to England with you. Please.” 

She blinked and you kept your hand in place as you listened. Hard soles echoed across the tarmac. You kept low and drew Estelle behind you as you snaked around cars. The footsteps grew fainter until they were almost silent. 

You felt a sudden weight and turned as Estelle crashed into you and belched obnoxiously as she landed on top of you. You swore. Her body went limp atop you and her head slumped over your shoulder. 

The footsteps were upon you in an instant as you were trapped beneath the unconscious Estelle. Steve stepped up between the cars on either side of you and knelt with a huff. He hung his head and ran his hand over his golden hair.

“Honey…” His voice was laced with fury.

“Estelle…I just came to help her. She said she was gonna vomit and–”

“Shut up,” Steve snarled as he grabbed Estelle and lifted her easily from atop you. “And get up.” 

He slung her body over his shoulder and grabbed your hand as he stood. He turned you back to the banquet hall and dragged you along, your bare feet scraping on the pavement. 

“It’s too bad your sister had to ruin our night like this…your parents will be so disappointed.”


	18. Wedding Daze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding comes to an end.
> 
> Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+. 
> 
> This chapter: oral!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a motherfucking tease and y’all are gonna hate me. Hit me up and tell me that you do! Otherwise, enjoy!
> 
> I look forward to hearing from you in the comments. <3

You were speechless as Steve dragged you back down the hall. As you turned the corner you saw Talia ahead, anxiously wringing her hands at the entrance to the dance hall. You carried your heels and Estelle’s. Steve had barked at you to pick them up and quickly snatched your other hand again. He didn’t hesitate as he neared your closest friend. 

You looked up at him, frightened at his expression. He was no longer seething but compassionate and worried. He let go of you and lowered Estelle from his shoulder, holding her up across his arm. 

“Grab a chair,” His voice was gentle. A perfect mask. “And her parents, if you can. She’s had a bit too much.”

Talia was quick to abide. She nodded and glanced at you curiously. You lowered your head.  _What could you say?_  Your sister was obviously inebriated and Steve was ever the gallant gentleman. Talia disappeared through the door and your husband shook his head. Your  _husband_. Your eyes rounded at the thought.

“I asked your mother to keep an eye on her,” Steve muttered as he leaned her against the wall, “Tony insisted on an open bar.”

“Sweetheart--” You gulped back your words as he glared over his shoulder.

“It’s alright,” He said in a steely voice, “I know you’re sister is drunk. Foolish. Not thinking.” His words were so pointed they made you flinch. He wasn’t really talking about Estelle. “To ruin our day like this.” He shook his head and inhaled as he turned back to your sister and she babbled cluelessly in her stupour. “She won’t. No one can.”

Talia reappeared with one of the cushioned seats from the tables and your parents were not far behind. Your mother gasped as she saw Steve angle Estelle into the chair. Your father grumbled and shook his head. Steve turned to you and grabbed Estelle’s shoes and handed them to your mother.

“She tripped in the parking lot,” He was once more careless but his tone held an edge. “She needs to go.”

“Why I--” Your mother gaped and her eyes slowly strayed to you as you bent to put your heels on. “How could you let her get like this?”

“You,” Steve’s voice deepened as he stepped between you and your mother’s sneer. “I told you she was drinking too much. This isn’t on her. Not this time. Now you will let me and my wife enjoy our day and you will take your other daughter back to her hotel.” He snarled. You were as aghast as your mother looked. He’d never been anything but kind to her. “And when you return to New York, you will not speak to my wife in that manner.”

He cleared his throat and pushed his shoulders back. Your mother glanced at your dad and mumbled an apology. You had never seen her so thoroughly contrite. 

Steve turned to you and took your hand as he drew you towards the door. You peeked back as your father lifted your sister from the chair and hissed at your mother under his breath.

“...always coddle her…” He uttered and led your mother down the hall. 

Steve tugged on your hand and you spun forward. “Talia, you can let them know we’re ready now. Thank you.” He said softly and she scurried out the door. 

You watched as he closed his eyes and inhaled. At once, his fury slaked away and he was once more the blissful groom. The metamorphosis was terrifying. The DJ began his scripted intro and you shifted in your heels, pressing your skirt straight with your free hand. His eyes flicked over at the movement.

Steve leaned in, his hot breath made your shiver.. “You’re lucky this is the happiest day of our lives,” He growled and pecked your cheek gruffly, “Very lucky.”

-

You expected that every bride felt a sense of gloom when her wedding was finally over. You guessed, however, that your melancholy was much different than most. You looked down at your white skirt as Steve led you from the banquet hall, your hand held high in victory. You read once that white was the colour of mourning among medieval queens. It felt so much more dour than black.

A silver town car awaited you. Not the usual limo but just as elaborate. Steve opened the door and guided you inside with his other hand. He gave one last wave to your departing guests as he ducked in next to you. The door closed with a startling click and you slid across the leather seat until you were against the other door.

Steve caught your elbow and pulled you to him. Your skirts weighed you down as he drew himself close. He pressed his body to yours and shuddered. His other hand came up to cradle your cheek as he turned your face to his. “My beautiful wife.” 

He kissed you so fervently that you were crushed between him and the velvet interior. His other hand strayed to your bodice and he wrapped his arm around you. He had you pinned between him and the seat as he leaned over you. You were weak; tired. 

You dreaded this moment all day. Not the vows, the kiss, the dance, the sickening speeches.  _This._  The moment you were left alone with him. The beginning of your end.

He turned your body to him and forced himself between your legs. You pushed on his chest and he unhooked his arm from around you. He took your hands and forced them away. He held your wrists above your head as he ground his hips into you. His low moans filled your mouth as he pushed his tongue inside. 

You murmured and he shoved his pelvis against your skirts until you felt him. Even through the yards of fabric, his impatience was obvious. You turned your head away to catch your breath and his lips continued along your cheek, chin, and neck. He pressed your wrists together and held them with one hand as his other tugged at your skirts. 

“Steve,” You gasped. You tried to kick at him but it only allowed him closer, your left leg trapped between him and the seat. “Steve, please...stop.”

“You’re my wife now,” He spoke into your collarbone. “You have your duty…” 

He nibbled at your skin and you squeaked. He continued to fight through your skirts and you wiggled your hips helplessly beneath him. He was too heavy, too strong.

“Here?” You croaked, “Steve, it’s not...right.”

“No, not here,” He assured you, “I just need to touch you.”

His hand delved beneath the layers of satin and grazed over the white stockings hidden beneath. He tugged at the garter and groaned, his face firmly nestled in your cleavage. He squeezed your thigh and pushed his hand close to your vee. You squirmed and his thumb rested on your panties.

“Steve,” You tried to pull your wrists free and his grip tightened. “Steve!” You lifted your head and he bit down on the top of your tit, just above the bodice. You yiped and he purred as his teeth pinched you.

His thumb rubbed across your panties and he rested the weight of his pelvis against his hand. He pulled away from your chest to look up at you. His eyes were smokey as if in a trance. You dropped your head with an exasperated sigh. You grunted as you tried to shake him off of you. 

He teased your clit through your panties and you bit down on your lip. _Don’t._  You whined as you felt the nerves gathering beneath his touch. Your panties were growing wet from your unwanted arousal. You were helpless in more ways than one. There was no defense against his touch; against the flame it stoked within you. You closed your eyes and sobbed. You couldn’t give in, but you wanted to.

Your hips bucked as he flicked across your clit faster. You whimpered and he nuzzled the crook of your neck. He rested his head between yours and the seat, his hand never wavered. Neither did the flurry. You gulped as you felt the rise and your body went stiff as you battled it. 

You gritted your teeth as your orgasm won out and a pathetic mewl escaped your chest. You panted beneath Steve as he eased you through and you shook your head desperately.  _No, no, no._  You felt the cum soaking through your panties. He did too.

He rescinded his arm and let go of your wrists. He pecked your lips as he sat up and licked his thumb with a groan. You laid across the seat in shock. In shame. He pulled your skirts down and leaned back against the velvet leather seat. He sighed in relief and rolled his shoulders.

“My dear wife,” He rubbed his hand over his crotch and smirked. “Your duty.”

Your lips trembled in a pout and you crossed your hands over your chest. You shook your head and tried to crawl away from him. He caught your arm and yanked you along the seat until you sat up. He almost had you in his lap as he grabbed your other hand and shoved it into his lap. He wiggled his hip and groaned as you felt the bulge.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear. “You know how this night can go. Choose wisely.” He fell back against the seat and released you. He tilted his head and lifted a brow. “Well, what’s it going to be, honey?”

You kept your hand on him and stared at your fingers. They moved almost without your permission. You swallowed and snapped your mouth shut. _Stop shaking. Stay steady. You could do this. It wasn’t so bad. Not as bad as the room. Nothing was as bad as that._

You unbuttoned his fly and pulled down his zipper. He spread his arms across the back of the seat and you refused to look at him. You knew he was watching. Could feel more than the heat at your fingertips or that burning at your core. You pushed apart his fly and reached into his briefs. It was as if they weren’t your hands at all. Like a dream. Distant and numb.

You bunched up his briefs and pulled his cock out. You gripped him in your hand and clamped your lips together. All feeling returned at once. You felt as if you were vibrating, your ears buzzed. You gave a long stroke and he exhaled sharply. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He watched your hand closely.

You repeated the motion and slid back slowly on the seat. You bent over him and closed your eyes. You swirled your tongue around his tip and he shivered. You did it again and again. You dragged your tongue along his shaft as you tried to spread the saliva. You worked your hand steadily and his breaths turned to moans.

You pressed your lips to the head of his cock and let them slip over it. You pushed yourself onward.  _Not the room, not the room._  You repeated the words as you let him go deeper. At your limit, you stopped. You tried to pull back but his hand quickly caught the back of your head.

You stretched your neck as he forced you down. His cock entered your throat and you gagged around him. Your hand slid to his fly and you clung to it as you struggled to breath. Finally he let you up but not far. He guided your motion up and down his length. His dusky moans punctuated each descent.

Your head bobbed beneath his hand and you wheezed around him. The spit dripped from your mouth down his cock and his fingers tangled in your veil. You sped up, eager to be done. Eager to breathe. Your head throbbed from the lack of air, your jaw ached from the effort.

“Fuck, I’m gonna--” He grasped the back of your head and bunched your hair and veil between his fingers. He pulled you off of him and rasped through his panting breaths. “Use your hand.”

You swiftly took him in your hand and resumed your motion. You stroked him as he grunted loudly and his entire body shook. He reached out and grasped the front of your bodice, his fingers shoved between your cleavage. He came with a snarl. The ribbons spurted forth and dripped down your fingers and onto his black tuxedo pants. 

You slowed as he stilled and hesitantly let go of him. His cock fell against his stomach and he brushed back the hair that had fallen forward on his forehead. His blue eyes strayed to the window as the car came to a stop. He took the square of white from his jacket pocket and wiped up his mess before tucking himself away.

“Honey,” He smiled out the window, “We’re home.”


	19. Til death do us part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader’s fate is sealed.
> 
> Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+. 
> 
> This chapter: you know what it is boo! but yeah, oral, full sexual activity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okau, it’s hear. Hope y’all enjoy. There’s not much to say about this one. But I think we are very close to a finale (possibly even the next chapter) so I do want to thank you all for sticking with me through this!
> 
> I look forward to hearing from you in the comments <3

Steve opened the door. You watched him climb out of the car. You slid across the seat as you peeked out and he offered his hand. The large brick house loomed like a giant in the dark. You ignored him as you gaped up at the two-story home.  _Home?_  

He grabbed your arm and yanked you out to your feet. You stumbled and he slammed the door. He slapped the roof of the car and the driver pulled away. You were left alone; with Steve…and your new prison.

He dragged you forward and you tried to plant your feet. Your left heel snapped and you tripped. Steve caught you and turned you to him. “Stop,” He hissed, “It will be easier if…” He breathed and licked his upper lip. “You’re my wife now. I only want you to be happy.”

“Steve…” You rasped and he shook his head. His nostrils flared and he scooped you up in a single motion.

“Come on, it’s late already,” He carried you up the steps and to the door. 

You squirmed as he balanced you in his arms and you clung to his neck to keep from falling. With one hand he grabbed the handle, a decisive click as it unlocked and he stepped over the threshold. He kicked the door closed and it locked behind him with a whir. Your eyes widened and you looked around. 

A grand staircase before you, doorways to either side, the faint light of streetlamps through the windows. It was much like the underground prototype. A classic aesthetic with modern touches. A picture of suburbia. The domestic cell you had been sentenced to.

He began up the stairs and you reached for the railing. He didn’t pause, only wrenched you upward until you were forced to let go. You hissed as your fingers rang in pain and pushed against his chest. You quivered in his strong arms as he continued down the hallway. It was eerily dark and yet you dreaded to see it in the light.

“You don’t have to do this,” You begged and grabbed onto his lapel, “Steve, please don’t.”

“Please what? You’re my wife. You said I do.” He carried you to the door at the end of the hall, “You vowed yourself to me.”

“You know I didn’t want to,” You wriggled against him, “Don’t do this. Please.”

“I know it’s scary, dear,” He opened the door with the same mechanical click, “You weren’t so nervous a couple days ago.”

You sucked your lip in and frowned. You thought of the room beneath the bunker. Surely he had a similar trap here. You didn’t want to confirm that suspicion.

“Don’t you like it when I touch you?” The door closed with another swift kick. The light flicked on overhead. He neared the bed and you kicked your legs. 

“Let me go, please,” You beat at his chest. “You…you’re crazy! Please.”

“Enough!” He dropped you on the bed and you bounced painfully. You bit your tongue and struggled to sit up in your heavy dress. “It’s done. You said yes. You stood at that altar…you–” He inhaled and roughly undid his jacket. “I have done all this for you. I built this house for you, I changed my entire life for you.” He slipped the jacket down his arms. “So you will do what’s expected of you as my wife.”

“Steve,” You fought through your skirts and stood, “Please–”

“I am not crazy!” He snapped and ripped his bow tie off. “I heard you say it. You said you  _love_  me.” His voice rose dangerously as he unbuttoned his shirt. He stepped closer so that you were trapped between him and the bed. “Turn around.”

“No,” You tried to sidestep him and he grabbed your shoulders. He bent so that his nose almost met yours.

“Turn the fuck around,” He snarled. “As my wife, I expect you to listen the first time…or you can take your punishment in stride.”

You tried to pull away and he forced you around. He growled as you resisted and he tore your veil from your hair. He grabbed the back of your neck and forced you forward until you were bent over the bed. He leaned over you and pushed his pelvis against your skirts. 

“Be good or I’ll fuck you just like this,” He sneered. “Now stand up…” He shoved himself off you as he stood and slapped your ass. “And behave.”

You slowly lifted yourself up. As you rose, he grabbed the back of your dress and tugged at the laces. 

“I’d tear this in half if I didn’t wanna keep it,” He hissed, “You already did enough damage with that little game in the parking lot.”

Your body jerked as he loosed the laces. “Keep it?” You whispered, more to yourself than him.

“For our daughter…” He said matter-of-fact, “I can only imagine she’ll be as beautiful–” He punctuated the words with grunts as he untied your gown, “As her mother.”

“Daughter?” You were kept from moving away by his hands, the laces lashed at your arms as he freed them, “What–”

“I figure a son and a daughter would be nice,” He continued, “Maybe more. I’m open to a big family.”

You froze.  _Shit. Why hadn’t you thought of that?_  All your time spent trapped with him, planning a wedding, and you’d never even considered the possibility. Children.  _With him?!_

The gown slipped down your shoulders and he guided it down your body. You tried to hold it up but he forced it past your hands. He freed your hips and the silk pooled at your feet. 

“We’ll start tonight,” He ran his fingers along your hips. “Turn…sit.” A small nudge as he backed away. “We should have a little one by this time next year. Won’t it be nice?" 

He was talking more to himself as you turned and lowered yourself onto the bed. Your head was cloudy.  _Was it shock? Fear? Epiphany_? He untied his shoes as you stared at the carpet.

"Such a big house, we’ll need to fill it up,” He set his shoes aside and pulled off his socks. He stood and unzipped his fly. You could see the wet spot from your previous encounter. “Honey, I can’t wait.”

“But…” You picked at the lace garter around your thigh. “I don’t want children. I-I have a career.”

“You can draw from home,” His voice was bemused. “And I’ll be there to help. It won’t be so different from before.”

“I don’t want this,” You stood and stepped over your dress. “I don’t.”

You lunged for the door but he didn’t rush after you. The handle didn’t budge. You gripped it with both hands but it wouldn’t turn. You heard Steve move behind you. You glanced back at him as he lifted your gown from the floor and hung it over the velvet chair sat before the vanity.

“You don’t know what you want. You never did.” He scowled. “It’s why I had to make sure you were alone that night. I needed to make you see.”

“See what?” You leaned your back against the door weakly. Your heart raced as he kept his distance. “What are you talking about?”

“I knew you before the restaurant but you never saw me, did you?” He paced as he spoke. “Those days you went to the park. Or the cafe…you looked so lost.”

“You were following me?” You touched your chest above the lacy white bra. “How long?”

“You never even noticed me. Even when I handed you that napkin. Remember? You spilled your tea on your blouse and…it was gonna stain either way but…” He smiled. His features softened in his nostalgia. “You were so sweet. The little ‘thank you’, the way you smiled.”

“Oh my god,” You gasped as you grasped your forehead. “How–”

“Come here,” His voice was low; dangerous. “My lovely wife, it’s just us. At last.”

You nearly sank down the door as he watched you. Your head spun as you pushed yourself away from the wood. Your footsteps were light, uncertain. It was too late. It had always been too late. 

Every ounce of defiance had been for nothing. It wasn’t the life you had imagined, but it was Steve’s and there was no escaping him. _How had it taken you so long to realize it?_

Well you saw it now. Saw  _him._  Saw yourself from above as you crossed the room. He took your hand and guided you around to the bed. You sat as you had before and your entire body went numb. It was like the cell again.  _Cold; terrifying; dark._

This house wasn’t your prison, he was.

He rolled his briefs down his legs as you closed your eyes. You pressed your palms to the bedspread to steady yourself. Get married, have a baby, be the perfect wife.  _Oh, you’re mother would be proud_. Perhaps her years of nagging had been prophecy.

The bed dipped as Steve sat beside you. Your eyes snapped opened and you looked to him dumbly. He kissed you. You let him. He led you down onto your back, his hand explored the lace bra, the matching panties, the garters. 

He pulled you further onto the bed and you sank into the cushy mattress. He climbed over you and grinded his pelvis against yours. You felt his cock through the thin fabric. You looked down at it and winced. Your eyes strayed to the pale canopy overhead and you exhaled your surrender.

His lips drifted down. He tickled your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. He cupped your breasts and flicked your nipples through the lace. You held your breath as he got lower. His mouth left a tingle along your stomach, your hips, your thighs. He hovered around that sacred place.

He sat back and unclapsed the top of your stockings. He rolled them down your legs and took your shoes with them and pulled them off. You shivered as his hands glided up your legs once more. He snapped the garters but left them on. 

He tucked his fingertips beneath the waist of your panties and slid his hands under your ass to guide them down. The lace twisted past your garters, knees and ankles. He pushed your knees further apart as he knelt between them. You bit your lip and looked away.

He gripped your thighs and bent over you. Squeezed them as he dipped his mouth closer. His tongue surprised you. You felt  _that_. Cool but warm. Welcoming, even.

You shook your head as he tasted more of you. His tongue explored your folds and his lips settled over your clit. He suckled and lapped as you bit down harder. You weren’t supposed to feel.  _Don’t think, don’t feel, don’t be. Just lay there._

He swirled his tongue and you held in the squeak. His fingers crawled up your thigh and he pressed two along your pussy. He circled your entrance and your body reacted. The twitch of your legs encouraged him.

You reached up to stifle the moans that threatened. You tensed as he twined your nerves around his tongue and fingers. You bit down on your knuckle and the ripple turned to wave. The crest broke over you and drowned you in bliss.

He could feel your orgasm, you knew it. You quivered as he drank you in. He knew everything about you,  _didn’t he?_  More than you.

His hands slid along your pelvis and hips, his fingers wet as he held your waist. He raised himself and looked down at you. You couldn’t look back. 

He slipped the cups of your bra beneath your breasts and bowed his head. He took a nipple in his mouth as his fingers toyed with the other. You stared at the ceiling as he plucked at your chest, his touch played your body against itself.

He continued upward until his lips were back on yours. He kissed you as his hand descended and he teased your clit. You gulped and he pressed harder. You whimpered and he shoved his tongue into your mouth.

He spread your pussy with his fingers and moved his hips so that his cock was against his knuckles. He parted from your lips and cradled your face with his hand. You looked up into his smoky blue eyes and he pushed himself against your entrance.

He rescinded his hand as he sank into you. He held your head as he plunged as deep as you could. Your back arched and you gasped. Your walls stretched around him as he hummed.

“Fuck,” His left a streak of saliva along your cheek as he spoke into your skin. “So good.”

He lingered in you and wiggled his hips. You clenched the blankets as he eased out of you. His length coaxed the still buzzing nerves of your previous orgasm. He thrust back in and you groaned as you tugged the blanket closer to your body.

His chest grazed your hardened nipples as he moved on top of you. His heady breaths filled your ears and his motioned picked up with each delve inside. Your pussy clung to him as he worked in and out of you.

Your whole body jerked beneath him and he covered your mouth with his as he purred. He fucked you harder and harder. You breaths turned ragged and the soft moans were guttural in your throat. You pushed your head back into the mattress and snarled as you turned your head away from his.

You came with a twitch as you tried to catch your breath. Steve’s body slammed into yours as he never wavered. He pushed himself up, his hands on either side of you and he pounded you into the mattress. His golden hair shone with sweat and fell forward. His shoulders and jaw tensed as he exclaimed.

His hot cum filled you as the stitches of the bedspread came loose in your fingers. His thrusts turned erratic as he rode out his orgasm. He slowly lowered himself over you and nuzzled your cheek. He panted into the mattress beside your head as you suffocated in his warmth.

He stayed in you and took you with him as he rolled over. He grasped your hips and gently guided them. He moved your body against his so that your clit rubbed against his pelvis. He rubbed his nose along yours and kissed you.

You parted and moved your hips in time with his touch. You hid your face from him as you did. He played with your hair as his other hand kneaded your ass. 

You wouldn’t fight him anymore. Couldn’t. It was easier this way. You pushed yourself up and rocked your hips faster as your nails dug into his chest. He covered them with his own as he smiled up at you. 

Your vision turned blurry with the threat of tears. You blinked them away and succumbed to the haze.  _Don’t feel, just do…_

“I love you,” He whispered between moans. “My darling wife.”


	20. The first day of the rest of our lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The honeymoon begins.
> 
> Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+. 
> 
> This chapter: sex!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the end, omg! Yes, you heard me right. I was going over this so many times and then I figured it out and I just you all are ready because I’m not but here we go!
> 
> I look forward to hearing from you in the comments. <3 It's so hard to say goodbye to this one.

It was like your first night again. Restless. Terrifying. Then, finally, numb.

Steve never stopped. Touching you, using you, consuming you. You were entirely his now. When at last he released you, well not truly, you could barely move. You wanted to. Desperate to crawl away from him. To be anywhere but in his arms.

He held you. Gentle despite his endless fervour. His heat was suffocating. Exhausting. You were sore and weak. A shadow of who you were only hours ago.

In the early light of dawn, you're gown loomed like a ghost across the back of the chair. The cool air ran over your shoulder as his hand cradled your hip. He slept blissfully as you laid awake. 

He dozed but he had yet to detach himself. You suspected that even if he wasn't still inside you, you would still feel him. His chest rose and fell against your back, his body flush to yours.

You were crying again.  _When did that start?_  It all hazed together now.  _Had it been one night or one year?_ Gone was your resolve to stay strong.  _What good had that done you?_

Every time you ran he was two steps ahead of you. Every time you said no he only heard yes. Every act of resistance was another strike against you. 

Best to roll over and cover your face. Best to grin and bear it. Best to let him use your body and act like it wasn't yours. Best to give up.

The sun rose but your world was no brighter. He stirred and you squeezed your eyes shut. Sleep. If only that would stop him. Even that would not save you. He'd used you whether you wanted him or not.

Steve’s hand gripped your hip. He began to move inside of you. He was hard in seconds. You whimpered but didn’t fight it. You had given that up hours ago. He lifted his head and kissed your cheek. You kept your eyes closed.

“Morning, honey,” He whispered and kissed you again. 

His fingers pressed into your hip as he thrust slowly. He groaned and nuzzled the back of your head as he leaned against the pillow. He rocked against you and you clung to his arm across your middle. It felt good.  _Did that mean it was right?_ It must. The way you climbed so rapidly towards relief. To bliss, as fleeting as it was.

You moaned. It didn’t sound like you. You moaned again, louder and longer. You buried your face in the pillow and arched your back. You welcomed him deeper if only to forget; who he was and where you were. You clung to him as he sped up and he jolted your body as his groans turned to grunts.

You came with a spasm. You whined and he followed shortly after. His heat bloomed within you and you melted into the bed. He kept his hold on you and finally pulled out. A peculiar emptiness replaced his cock. He turned you on to your back and dragged his fingers along your jawline as he admired you.

“My beautiful wife,” He cooed. You hated it.  

You let him embrace you, you kissed him back when he pressed his lips to yours. It wasn’t so bad when you weren’t fighting. It wasn’t so scary. You stared at the canopy and exhaled. It didn’t have to be bad.

“Steve,” You slowly looked to him, “Sweetheart…”

“Yes,” His blue eyes lit up at your pet name. He could hear your surrender. “What is it, dear?”

“I’m...sorry,” You forced out. The words tasted odd on your tongue. As if they didn’t belong there. “I...was scared. Stupid.” You lowered your lashes guiltily. “I should not have hurt you.” You turned to him and tucked your arm under his. Your lip trembled as you stared into his eyes. The pit you would never reach the bottom of. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He hugged you and kissed you again. Deeper. His thick arms imprisoned you. When he parted, you traced the tender line of his neck. As if you couldn’t believe he were real. Truly, in disbelief. Denial.

“Are you hungry?” You asked. “I’ll make breakfast.”

He smiled again.  _Oh, that pleased him very much_. If you could keep him happy, maybe you would be happy too. He released you and rubbed your shoulder. You sat up carefully. His eyes fell to you naked body. You refused to flinch.

“You should wash up,” He said. “Before our first day as husband and wife begins. Everything should be perfect, right?”

“Yes, everything,” You rubbed his chest. Your hand looked like someone else’s. He closed his eyes and sighed.

You turned and shimmied across the bed. Your legs were shaky beneath you. You held onto the bedpost as you gained your balance. When you walked, your thighs chafed tenderly against each other. Your pussy throbbed with each step. Every inch of your body screamed but your mind was mute. 

_Where was that voice now? Why was she so quiet? What was she plotting?_

You rounded the bed and dragged your feet to the bathroom door. It opened with a click. A frosted glass window stood across from you just beside the large tub.  _Was that one real?_  You wondered if the light was truly the sun or if this was all just another illusion. You steadied yourself with the door frame.

“Honey,” Steve called to you. The bed shifted and you looked back as he sat up. His broad shoulders and chest were impenetrable. The shackles that would keep you here. “There should be enough hot water for the both of us, don’t you think?”

“Yes, dear,” You agreed. You smiled and turned back to the bathroom. 

The tile was cold on your feet. You crossed the room and bent over the tub. Your lower back twinged in agony. You twisted the faucet with a grunt and shoved the stopper into place. You watched the hot water splash down against the porcelain. The ripples blurred in your vision and you stared at the depths as they rose.

But it wasn’t the water which flowed from the tap that clouded your vision, it was the tears that once more stung your eyes.

-

Steve fucked you in the bath tub too. You weren’t surprised by that. You expected it. The hot water had done little to soothe your muscles as he racked them again. The floor was soaked when you finished and you hardly felt cleaner. You could feel his eyes on you; always.

You dried your hair and did your make up. He watched. You arranged your tresses and dressed. He watched. You stood and turned to him with an eager smile. He watched.

He went to the door and touched the handle. It clicked and fell open. He wore only a towel around his waist as he waited for you to pass through. He was hard again. Or, still. His hand grazed your ass as you stepped into the hallway. He leaned against the door frame as you peeked over your shoulder.

“I’ll meet you down there, dear,” He promised, “I just need to get dressed, okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” You accepted and turned away from him.

You marched down the hallway and descended the stairs slowly. The door didn’t close until you reached the bottom. You looked around the small foyer, the arches to each side of you. It reminded you of the bunker. The same style but sleeker. The house wore the same mask as Steve.

The dining room was too the left; attached was the kitchen. Red curtains and tile; pristine marble counter tops. Your heels clicked across the floor and you opened the fridge. Bacon and eggs.  _Simple_.

You were just waiting for the toast to pop when Steve appeared. He offered to set the table and you graciously accepted the favour. When he was done, he waited at the table. You brought out the platter of bacon and eggs. You served each of you, poured two glasses of juice, and sat. He tilted his head as he watched you.

“Honey,” He lifted his fork and twirled it, “Are you...okay?”

“I’m great,” You answered. You looked to the window behind him.  _Had that bird’s wing flickered or flapped? Was that pixel or sunlight?_  “Wonderful.”

He nodded and poked at his food. You ate in silence. You watched him. You smiled. He was so big. So strong.  _Unstoppable._

He gulped from his orange juice and you mirrored him. He blinked and furrowed his brow. He thought as he scraped clean his plate. You weren’t very hungry yourself. You hadn’t touched a bite. You rested your chin in your hand and leaned on the table.

“Sweetheart,” You watched as he sat back and finished his orange juice. 

“Y-yes,” He coughed and you pushed your plate away. “Do you want mine?”

“No, I’m...full,” He rubbed his stomach and frowned. “No, I’m...good.”

He touched his throat and tried to clear it. He grimaced and his hand went to his chest. His face went pale and he gripped the arms of his chair. You stood and began to clear the table.

“Well, better get to cleaning up,” You announced as you walked around the table.

You carried the pitcher to the kitchen; then the platters, the plates, the glasses, and the cutlery. He stayed in his seat. You hummed as you pushed in your chair. He gripped the edge of the table as he sputtered. He hit the wood with his fist but he was weak already. You smiled, this time for real.

“H-h-honey,” He stuttered as the realization flowed through him.

“What a lovely meal,” You preened as you straightened the table cloth, “A nice beginning to our marriage.”

He leaned on his elbow and trembled. You walked around to him and placed your hands on his shoulders. He slumped forward.  _Powerless._  Like you. You leaned in and kissed his cheek just before his head hit the table. He started to spasm then.

“A better end,” You whispered. 

You pushed yourself away from him and he leaned heavily on the arm of the chair. It groaned beneath him and toppled as his frame went entirely limp. Your lips fell open as he crashed across the floor. His blue eyes were endless as he stared up at you. You knelt beside him and brushed back his golden hair with your fingertips. 

“So happy together, weren’t we?”

**_FIN_ **


	21. Thanks!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little note for readers.

I just want to thank everyone who followed and left such lovely responses on this fic. The response has been overwhelming and I apologize for my own lack of answers but I am astounded and flattered by everyone who left a comment and for the unending support. I'm happy that most people enjoyed the ending and look forward to seeing all of you throughout my future work. You're all so lovely and amazing and none of this would happen without you and your amazing feedback.

Thank you!!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to leave a comment. :)


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